


The Glaring Exception

by Amurtinyburr12



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bamf!Jason Todd, Batfamily Feels, Cop!Dick, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Officer Grayson, Redemption, jason is just a bit misunderstood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurtinyburr12/pseuds/Amurtinyburr12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that isn't quite redemption, but close enough for Jason Todd. Or: Jason's Guide to Dealing with Family.</p><p> "This is a story about mercy. It's also about revenge... justice... and fighting for yourself." - Bruce Wayne</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Show Me Yesterday, For I Can't Find Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tresta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresta/gifts), [IllustriousEnigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllustriousEnigma/gifts), [Samira2306](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samira2306/gifts).



> I gifted this work to the selected three users because of their amazing comments throughout this story. I don't think people realize how much authors value opinions and helpful critiques. To show my appreciation I've dedicated this story to them. Thank you so much for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason goes to find Dick for the first time since his death, but the reunion isn't exactly what he'd hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title is taken directly from Batman Volume 1 645 from the Under the Hood story line. 
> 
> I mention, later, in the story that Jason's mother abandoned him. I'm not talking about Catherine Todd at this point, I am referring to Sheila Haywood, his biological mother.
> 
> I should also note that this is bound to be factually incorrect when compared to the comics since I haven't read many. This follows, somewhat, the Crisis on Infinite Earths story line not Jason's original origin story. Because the original sucks.

Jason remembers everything, but that doesn't mean he understands. How was he stupid enough to let this happen _again_? Life's really got a fucked up sense of humor. Not that it really matters. He'll be dead in a few minutes.

* * *

  _A memory_

When Jason first tried on the Robin costume it was the first time in his entire life that he'd felt needed. Jason Peter Todd was somebody of importance now. No longer was he just another scruffy thieving orphan from Crime Alley, barely making it from one day to the next. No, he was bigger than that now. He was Robin the Boy Wonder. _Gotham looked up to him now._

The first day he'd spent half an hour admiring his complexion in the mirror, adjusting his cape and parting his hair as best he could. Those tiny green shorts should have made him cringe. They should have been embarrassing. But for Jason, they were a badge of honor.

As time passed however, the spotlight felt less and less glamorous and being Robin began to feel more and more like a competition.

Jason knew Bruce wasn't intentionally trying to make him feel inferior. It was just part of his charming personality.

Just...at the end of training sessions or confrontations with Gotham baddies, Bruce would almost always look over at Jason and say something along the lines of: "You're coming along Robin. If you could master a quadruple flip like the former Robin, you may be able to evade criminals with close combat weapons easier." It was a backhanded compliment, the kind that Bruce often dealt, but never seemed to realize his mistake.

"Dick could do this."

"Dick used to do it like that."

"Dick once told me that if you tuck in your legs more, you'll free fall faster."

During the beginning of his training, he felt like Bruce didn't actually want him as Robin. If Dick wanted to be Robin again, it wouldn't come as a surprise to Jason if his ass was tossed out the door just as quickly as he'd moved in. Sure, Dickie and Bruce's relationship was tense right now but by nature any relationship with Bruce was tense.

For Jason, his relationship with his adoptive "father" was always going to be temporary. Not because he wanted it that way- but because he thought Bruce did. The man had attachment issues to the first Robin- it wasn't a secret, and wouldn't be because it was so obvious. They both shared common ground over the murders of their parents- and all Jason had to show for himself was a small-time crook for a father and a mother who had abandoned him.

More often than not, Jason would accidentally stumble across Bruce in the Batcave, reminiscing over the original Robin costume. It made Jason uncomfortable, watching his mentor stare at the costume with something akin to love.  It was like he was intruding on a private moment. He wasn't sure if the Bat was capable of love, but if he wasn't then Dickie was the closest thing to it. Knowing he'd never be as good as his adoptive brother was the icing on the cake. Everyone knew it- Dick had been a professional acrobat at eight. Jason? At eight he'd been stealing tires from vehicles. How was he supposed to compete with that?

The thing was though, Jason actually liked Golden Boy (not that he'd ever admit that to the other). He was a little handsy for Jason's taste- just a bit too eager to hug, joke, laugh and do brotherly things. No one could deny that his personality was golden- thus the nickname. It was a lot harder to hate the original Boy Wonder when it was so easy to see why he was the family favorite. Dick Grayson was just so goddamn pure, it felt wrong to hate him. Everything he said was with the utmost sincerity and every smile was so genuine it could melt a unicorn.

Even criminals like Penguin, Joker and the Riddler knew he wasn't the first Boy Wonder. They laughed at his obvious lack of experience and skill; taunted him with stories of the first Robin. He was desperate to prove himself to somebody...but no one would listen. And really, he had nothing to prove because they were right. Jason Todd was no Dick Grayson.

He was the exception of all the people in the family. He wasn't as smart as Bruce, as talented as Dick or as kind as Alfred. He was the street kid picked out of the gutter. The glaring exception.

After awhile though, as more time passed, he began to feel like he was becoming part of the family. Bruce loved him, as well as Bruce could love anyone, and the world was fair. People had moved on from the first Robin, he saved children and adults alike at night and earned his education during the day. He loved all of it, he loved Bruce and Alfred, he loved the crazy life he lived. Being Robin was his release and Bruce was his hero.

Sure, he still felt overshadowed by Grayson a lot of the time, but it didn't bother him as much as it used to. It was understandable, seeing as the first Robin was the epitome of perfection.

Dick was also the first, Jason remembered, to welcome him into the family. The second he stepped through the door into Wayne Manor he was wrapped in a hug so fierce he could have sworn he heard a rib crack. "Welcome home!"

Golden Boy had grinned at him so many times that first night that Jason had actually wondered if he possessed some sort of Smiling Disorder. Dick had talked animatedly about hanging out together, going to movies, training together, and having sleepovers. It was all so overwhelming that Jason nearly cried (though he'd deny it if asked). He'd never had a big brother before. Certainly no one had ever really talked about "hanging out" with him. Why did this older boy want to waste his time on him ? It didn't make any sense, but Jason had decided not to tell Dick that he was making a mistake.

_'He knew that Jason Todd was not Dick Grayson. It wasn't about skill, or endurance, or even their will to succeed. No. It was that Jason had a "mean streak". Jason was dangerous. And as a father... he was at a loss for what to do.'_

_End memory_

Jason still finds it hard to think of Dick now and not get that feeling, the same one from all those years ago. The feeling that he's just a cheap less authentic copy of his adoptive brother. Even after being resurrected from the Lazarus Pit, digging himself out of his own grave, training with the League of Assassins and becoming the Red Hood he still feels unworthy. Another thing: Jason had sort of assumed that while he was dead time had frozen. It was stupid, but he'd thought maybe... maybe his family still grieved him. Bruce hadn't loved him as much as Dick, but he did love him. He'd told him so, on occasion, after some particularly life threatening missions.

So, _why had he replaced him_? Why had he found two more Robins to fill his boots? Everyone had moved on without him. Forgotten.

Jason knew he hated all of the Bats and Birds, but he couldn't shake the sense that he was meant to go find his older brother. The thought came to him one night while he was lying in his bed and kept plaguing him every night after. It was a feeling in his gut that he tried for days to ignore, but inevitably he couldn't. His conscious continuously repeated for him to find his brother.

At first he'd thought to try to find Dick in his hometown, but an inside source had mentioned a certain "badly dressed spandex clad vigilante flying and flipping through the streets of Blüdhaven." It really didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. His brother had always been a bit of exhibitionist and a showoff when it came to acrobatics. 

When Jason got to Blüdhaven it was barely dark out. He'd failed to take into account that the trip wasn't horribly long. By the time he arrived at the supposed apartment for a "Richard Grayson" the clock had barely hit seven. Wherever Dickie Bird spent his daytime hours meant he wouldn't be at home yet. He let himself into the apartment- he was a former Batscout after all, breaking and entering was one of his everyday routines- and plopped himself down in the middle of the junkyard Dick called home. Jason figured it would be a bit of a wait, so he emptied his holsters, removed his helmet and dumped his utility belt onto the table so he could take a well deserved break. He helped himself to some leftover Chinese takeout, because the only other option was about a thousand different kinds of sugary cereal. Dick knows that he hates cereal. Really, what an asshat. 

There were a lot of things Jason hadn't expected when Dick finally stepped through the door. The first was, for some reason, he thought Dick would be in civvies. Instead, he came stumbling through the door, back to him, clutching a bag of groceries and donning a perfectly ironed police officer's uniform. _Police officer? When had that happened?_

The second was that when Dick turned, he only stared. He made no move to escape, yet didn't try to step any closer. It wasn't exactly the welcome Jason had been expecting- if there was anyone in the family who would've accepted him home with open arms he'd thought it would be Dick (with the exception of Alfred). To the untrained eye, Dick didn't appear nervous. But Jason knew all of his subtle nuances, knew each and every twitch and flicker that ever rippled across his face. He was tense but Jason noted that he passed it off as adjusting his groceries.

"Jason," Dick's voice had changed slightly. It was a little deeper now, more masculine than before. Jason notes that he's taller than Dick, not by much but _still_. He can't help but feel a little pleasure in that.

"Dick." Jason returned, hand instinctively going for his holster- before remembering that he'd discarded his weapons onto the table. He cursed himself mentally for such a rookie mistake. The air felt charged, almost electric. The tension in the room was undeniable.

"What do you want?" Dick's tone was calm and even, but there was something lurking beneath it that made Jason uneasy.

"I can't drop by and visit my favorite big brother without needing something?" Jason asked, immediately going on the defensive. In truth, he couldn't answer the question because he didn't know. He didn't know why he was here, or why he'd decided to show up now. All he had to go off was the feeling that he was meant to be here.

"You..." Dick's voice cracks. "You died." He moves for the first time since he saw Jason, reaching out a hand as if to touch him- before apparently changing his mind and letting it drop back to his side.

"Whose fault was that?" Jason mutters bitterly, eyes downcast and trained on his shoes.

"I looked for you," Dick says and it's alarming how shaky his older brother's voice has gotten in such a short amount of time. His calm facade is quickly deteriorating. "Everyone told me you were dead but I refused to believe it...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I should have stayed. I-"

"Shut up." Jason growls, _**thinking to hell with it**_ and snatches his gun from the table, jams it in Dick's face and snaps off the safety off all in one fluid movement. "I don't want your sympathy. I don't want to hear that you're sorry for everything I've been through!"

Dick's face flashes quickly from hurt to resigned. Something sober has melted into his eyes. "Why are you here? I heard you got back some time ago. So, why now?"

I missed you.

"I hate you."

Dick finally steps away from the door, closing it behind him with one hand, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Jason. "Do you?" His voice is soft and it's impossible to tell what he's thinking.

No.

"Yes."

There's a long silence between them that stretches on for what feels like eons. Dick turns and walks away, sets a few things on the counter then starts storing his groceries in cabinets. It's a weird feeling, being ignored by the one person who has never ignored him. Jason blinks when he realizes that he's still pointing his gun at the door. He lowers it slowly, flicks the safety back on, then trudges after his brother to the kitchen and plops himself on the counter.

"It's a long way back to Gotham," Dick comments almost absent-mindedly, back still turned as he begins loading things into the cupboard.

"Gotham isn't my home. I go where I please and do what I want." Even to his own ears, Jason sounds like a self-absorbed three year old.

At this, Dick turns and gives him a half amused look. "As the Red Hood right? I hear you've got your hands full fighting crime."

Jason eye's instinctively flicker to his helmet, still propped up on the table. He can feel his face turning nearly the same shade of red. "Look, Dick, if you're trying to judge me on my life choices, I don't need it. I'm sick of yours and Bruce's sanctimonious crap. I learned my lesson the first time."

"Learned your lesson the first time?" Golden Boy sounds confused.

"I don't know if you remember- maybe you didn't hear about it- but Joker used my mom as bait against me, got her to betray me then let her watch as I got beaten to death with a crowbar." Jason smiles nastily. "I took a bath and got fixed. Now, I've got a second chance to take down the filth in Gotham. If you think I'm going to waste my opportunity just because you Bat freaks are so hung up on 'seeing the light,'" Here he makes air quotes and even indulges himself in a dry laugh. "You're sorely mistaken. I swear, no more little boys are gonna get taken from their families."

Dick's eyes do something funny after Jason says that. Jason's no stranger to crying, _hell he's seen Dick cry plenty_ (usually during _The Lion King_ ). Still, it was weird knowing that he was the cause of those tears. Immediately, the flood of insults that had been building throughout the conversation retreat back down his throat and all Jason can do is watch as Dick sinks to the floor, wiping at his eyes furiously.

"I, uh..." Dick's voice get's slightly squeaky, but Jason pretends he doesn't hear it. "I didn't even know that you'd died."

Jason finds himself slipping of the counter and sliding down so that he's sitting on the kitchen floor next to his brother, back now pressed against the counter. "You didn't know?"

There's a pause, and Jason notices that Dick won't quite meet his eyes. "Bruce never told me. I was off world and when I got back Alfred sent me to the graveyard. After wandering around a bit I found your gravestone and-" Dick makes a weird choking sound and he closes his eyes briefly. Tipping his head back to rest against the wall of the counter, he continues quietly. "I gave you my old Robin costume, Jay. _I killed you._ "

Jason doesn't know how to respond to that, his mind scrabbling for something to say. "Yeah...you did give me your Robin costume." He starts slowly. "But, that decision was mine. I put it on, I knew the consequences. I wanted to be Robin," _I wanted to be you,_ "I would have figured out how to take it from you if you hadn't given it to me."

"It should have been me."

It feels like someone's punched him in the gut. His head spins for a moment. The words sink in. Jason releases his grip on his gun entirely; lets it clatter to the floor. With both hands, he grabs his older brother violently by the shoulders, turning him so that they're face to face. "Don't you ever say that." He snarls- or at least it would have been a snarl if the words hadn't caught in his throat. It came out more of a plea than anything else. "Never you, Dickie. Never you." They're not quite hugging, Jason's touch is too faint to be called an embrace but Dick must realize he's serious after the physical contact is initiated.

Dick looks back at him with red rimmed eyes. "Okay," his voice is hoarse. Despite his words, Jason can tell he still doesn't agree.

"If you'd died...Bruce would have gone crazy." Jason swallows the lump in his throat. It's painful to think about, knowing Bruce would avenge his brothers death but not his. "He would have killed the Joker. No...he would have killed every damn criminal in Gotham."

"That's not true." Dick's ability to lie is even worse than his alcohol tolerance.

"It is, and you know it. You're his protege. Bruce would have murdered Joker in cold blood if it meant avenging you. He'd abandon all his morals for you."

Dick doesn't answer, probably because he doesn't want to admit that Jason's right.

"Hey though, if you blow someone's head off Daddy Bats'll probably let you off with nothing but a stern warning and a pat on the head," Jason attempts a joke, trying to make light of a situation that's getting too serious too fast. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back.

"You do know you need to stop killing people Jay, don't you?" Dick's lifted his head now, a frown appearing.

"I don't kill unless it's absolutely necessary." He's uncomfortable again, dammit.

Dick starts getting to his feet, sighing warily. "Killing is killing Jaybird. How are you any better than the people you're putting in the ground if you don't draw the line somewhere?"

Jason scoffs, standing up as well so he's toe to toe with his brother. "Dickie, what you Bruce, Replacement and that little Demon Spawn of his fail to understand is that the bad guys aren't gonna play by the rules. You put them in jail or Arkham and they'll find a way to escape. The only way to stop them is to put them down the first time. How many people would still be alive if Bruce had just done what needed to be done and killed the Joker years ago? How many families would still be whole? How many kids would grow up with their parents?"

Dick visibly flinches when Jason mentions the latter but shakes his head regardless. "That may be true but there's nothing standing between you and Bane if you start offing people. What gives you the right of way to kill, but not the Joker? Doing what your doing Jay, makes you just like them-"

Jason doesn't let his brother finish. Dick was too preoccupied being body slammed against the counter to finish anyway. " _Never_ compare me to the Joker. He and I are nothing alike." Jason can feel his control slipping, his restraint is diminishing alarmingly fast. It feels like he's trying to hold onto a wet soap bar, the more he tries to suppress himself the faster he loses his grip.

"I wouldn't compare the two of you if you'd stop acting like him," Dick's eyes narrow and for the umpteenth time since Jason's arrived he sees true flickering emotion in them. "You need to straighten yourself out. You're sick Jay! I can help you, _just let me try._ "

That's what pushes him over the edge, Jason thinks. Dick doesn't need to tell him that he's sick. He doesn't need to remind him how far he is from perfect. All he really remembers is feeling lightheaded and shouting: "I might be the fucked up one but at least I don't go creeping around at night dressed like a male hooker spouting cheesy one liners and hoping it'll be enough to make daddy proud!"

And Dick doesn't say anything. He just raises an eyebrow. Because, dammit,  _that sounds exactly like what Jason used to do._

The only difference is Dick _has_ made Bruce proud.

There was wind rushing in his ears, a howl of fury and humiliation that couldn't be contained. Red in his vision, adrenaline surging through his veins. Grabbing his brother, hoisting him up, smashing him down. And punching, punching as hard as he could, not caring in the slightest to pull any of them. Dick was on his back, slammed onto the top of the counter, the remainder of his groceries scattered around the floor. He's pummeling him as hard as he can, screaming incoherent things like a mad man. There's pain shooting through his knuckles, but he welcomes the feeling. Let's it fuel his rage.

When Jason finally comes back to himself, and regains his bearings he notices that he isn't injured at all -aside from the self inflicted bruises on his knuckles. Dick _didn't even try_ to stop him. His rapid breathing slows, he feels almost like a ghost sinking back into his own body. He almost can't bring himself to meet his brothers eyes. When he finally does, his heart stops for a beat.

Dick's covered in blood, bruises already appearing. His right eye is swollen and purple, his left wrist twisted unnaturally. His once immaculate uniform is torn and dirty. With difficulty Dick sits up, staring at him through his good eye. "Feel better now?" Dick asks dryly, eye(s) blank. He slowly pushes himself off the counter and takes an wavering step toward him, his intentions unclear.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Jason demands, a feeling akin to panic surging through him.

Dick takes another step but this time his right leg gives out on him and he goes down hard.

Jason doesn't move to catch him. Dick struggles to get to his feet, muttering something quietly, too quiet for Jason to hear. The bits Jason does catch sound suspiciously like "family" and "home." A tidal wave of emotion sweeps over him, and for a second he's back on the porch of Wayne Manor and Dick is welcoming him into the family.

It's too much. The Red Hood backs up toward the window and after a moment of hesitation he shoots a line out toward the nearest building and swings away as fast as humanly possible.


	2. It Only Hurts When I Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason flees back to Gotham and runs into the Replacement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title derived from Batman Vol 1 #650 from the Under the Hood storyline. I'm going to try to do a chapter a week but sometimes life happens and I can't.

Shit.

_Shit._

It's a mantra running through Jason's mind, playing over and over again as he swings away from Dicks apartment. He doesn't stop till he's found the alley he stashed his motorcycle in and slammed on the gas.

What the hell had he been thinking? The goddamn protégé of Batman and he tucked him up. The one person who had ever truly believed in him- and _shit_. If Jason knew Dick, and he did, he wouldn't tell Bruce. Bless him for that. But Bruce isn't the world's greatest fucking detective for nothing. He'll figure it out. And when he does- this little game the two of them have? Over. Their unspoken arrangement. If he stays out of the Bat's operations and vice versa, they'll try to keep the maiming and killing of one another to a minimum. After this fiasco, he should probably prepare for at least three of his drug shipments to be hijacked by a pair of Robins.

Avoiding Bruce could be difficult. Jason knows he's good- he can evade the best of the best. This isn't amateur hour, it's real life. He would have died an additional four times if he didn't know how to evolve and survive. But Bruce knows how he thinks- he was his first mentor. Bruce _will_ find him, it's really just a matter of when.

Jason touches down at one of his safe houses, located at the edge of Gotham city. He contemplates his choices. Is it worth it to stick around here and possibly run into Bruce or should he retreat some other crime addled city? The second option makes him physically sick- backing down would slander everything the Red Hood stands for. If he runs, it broadcasts to Gotham that he's scared. That would really suck, especially since it took some time to earn the respect of Gotham's lowlife. Once people find out what Red Hood is afraid of they won't take him seriously.

The best strategy is to put himself into Bruce's shoes. So, what would Bruce think he'd do? If _he_ was Bruce and Jason was his formerly deceased son turned anti-hero he'd expect him to lay low for a few months and abide by his rules. It's not a bad idea, actually. Doing anything else would be like poking a beehive several times just to get a reaction. The only issue is that Jason hasn't been doing anything by the Bats rules lately. Even if he wants to be a good Samaritan, things find a way to backfire and paint him in the worst possible light.

So really, in perspective, this new ordeal is just another exciting chapter of Jason's life because he's done much worse than beat up Dick- _so much worse._ He's blown up buildings, trafficked drugs, shot rival dealers and crime lords in the face, and tried to murder his Replacement on occasion. Usually, Bruce never develops more than a twitching eye over such behavior.

But, this time it's different. This time he's screwed with Dick Grayson, God's spandex wrapped gift to the world and the light of Bruce's life.

Jason must have drunken something bloody strong before going to Dick's- he does get his shittiest ideas when drunk. However, if he'd been drunk last night the hangover should've hit him by now and unfortunately he still feels fine.

To say he got zero sleep that night would be an understatement. By six am he was still wide awake, staring unblinkingly out the window; eyes tracking the sun's movement across Gotham's skyline. It's nice being able to appreciate the view from his customized windows- which _hell yeah,_ are the size of walls. He's proud of that investment.

A noise from outside startles him so much that he jolts upward and nearly falls out of the bed. Grunting, he shoves off the covers, and creeps on silent feet across the apartment. He selects a random handgun from his arsenal of weapons and steps slowly toward the door, taking care to blend with the shadows. Another noise echoes through the building; wood panels creak. Someone's definitely in his safe house. If Jason concentrates hard enough, he can pick out the tell tale patters of foot falls.

Following that comes a different noise- a sound that Jason would need to be deaf to forget. The ruffle of a cape. It can't be Batman, his cape is always silent, even when it's windy. (Jason has yet to figure that mystery out.)

The odds of the noise belonging to one of two junior caped vigilantes that he knows are looking pretty good. On a hunch, Jason sticks his foot out of the corner he's standing in and, much to his delight, something bumps into it and falls to the floor with a loud crash.

"Goddammit Jason!" Comes the startled shout as the figure- too small to be Bruce- tries to sit up from where he lays sprawled on the floor. Objects have fallen everywhere, scattering about the safe house - making a mess of his perfectly organized home.

"What are you doing here, Replacement?" Jason scowls, wondering how Tim even knew where this safe house was located. The kid is pretty intelligent, Jason supposes it wouldn't be that hard for him to pinpoint his whereabouts.

Tim gave him his best bat glare as he stands and brushes himself off. "You left some stuff over at Dick's." He gestures to the things that slipped from his hands.

Jason's eyes zero in on a few of the objects, and after a moment recognizes them as his. His helmet, his belt and assorted weaponry. "Dude, why'd you drop those grenades in my apartment?"

He snickers at the unamused look Tim gives him.

"So, why'd the Bat send you, _Red Robin_?" He drawls out the "Red Robin" for effect, testing how it sounds from his mouth. He decides he doesn't like it.

Tim shrugs. "Bruce couldn't make it, you know how sunshine depresses him. I figured it was in our best interests to talk, so I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

Jason moves to pick up his helmet rolling it in his hands to see if there are any dents before flicking his eyes up to meet his not-brother's. "You actually want to _talk_?" There's no keeping the suspicion out of his voice.

The third Robin shifts his stance to a neutral one, crossing his arms loosely. "If I wanted to fight you Jay, I would have brought Damian."

That gets a sharp laugh out of Jason. "You mean if you wanted to watch me kick his ass."

Tim grins slyly as he casually reclines against the wall. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. You do deserve to get your ass kicked after what you did to Dick."

Jason finishes putting his place back into order and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, finally forces himself to address the elephant in the room: "What did Dickie Bird say?"

Tim licks his lips before carefully replying: "He called me sometime this morning and asked if I could help him clean up his apartment. And... he asked me not to tell Bruce where I was going."

Jason tries his best not to look relieved- any normal person wouldn't have noticed. But because he's a freakishly perceptive mutant, Tim _does_ notice and raises an eyebrow. "I think Bruce was still suspicious when he saw me leaving. I told him I was going on a solo patrol, but you know how he is. We have a few minutes at best until he figures out where I am." Tim glances down at his uniform as if scanning for a tracker in the threads. Jason wouldn't really put it past Bruce to have Tim bugged down to his underwear. The man has unresolved protective issues.

"I was pretty sure I deactivated all of them," Replacement mutters to himself, patting under his left armpit, "but there's bound to be a few that even I don't know about."

"Bruce truly is a stunning father figure, teaching his baby birds all about trust."

Tim ignores his comment. "Tell me what happened in Blüdhaven. Why'd you go all Mad Hatter on Dick's ass?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

Tim gives him an unimpressed look. "What, so you thought you'd head over to Dick's, slap him around for fun then leave? Besides having a criminally disgusting apartment, he didn't do anything wrong." Tim chuckles a little, like he's just thought of something funny. "Not to sound ungrateful Jason but, I thought, out of all the people you'd want to knock around, it'd be me or Bruce. _Not_ the only tolerable person in the family."

It's taking all of Jason's self-control not to put a bullet in Replacement's brain right now. Dick's done nothing wrong. Dick's so nice and wonderful.  _That's the issue. It's always the issue._ His hand fractionally clenches around the trigger of his gun. "You have no idea what I'm going through." Really, the only thing stopping Jason from killing Boy Blunder 3.0 is the thought of incurring even more of Bruce's anger. He really isn't in the mood to deal with that emotional baggage.

"No, I don't," Tim snaps back, all traces of humor gone. "I'm not even going to try to pretend to decipher what's going on in that head of yours. But if what's going on in there-" he jabs a finger at Jason, "affects _my_ family, then I'm gonna do something about it." It's hard to tell Tim's facial expression from behind the mask, but he sounds pretty serious.

Jason tries not to think too hard about how Tim said "my family" in such an excluding tone. Jason Todd used to be one of them. He supposes he isn't anymore and hasn't really been since he died. What sort of family vandalizes the bat signal, tries to murder his younger brother on a daily basis and deals drugs? Not a good one.

He reminds himself that doesn't even want to be associated with Bruce.

"What? What are you gonna do?" Jason forces himself back to the conversation.

The other boy shakes his head. "No, Jay, I'm smarter than this. Do you think I'm an idiot? After I answer your question you'll say something snarky just to be a smart ass. I'll get mad, one thing will lead to another and we'll end up beating the crap out of one another. Then, judging on how long I've been gone from the manor, Bruce will sweep in just as I'm about to kill you."

"He'll come just as _I'm_ about to kill _you_ ," Jason mutters under his breath, not loud enough for Tim to hear.

"What if we just skip that bit and you tell me what's wrong?"

Jason searches Tim's face for a sign to suggest that he's joking. He squints when he realizes the younger boy is serious."You're asking me if there's something wrong?" Clearly Tim doesn't know him that well if he's asking him that.

"Is this a cry for help? Do you want Bruce's attention? I wanna help you, but I can't do that unless you're willing to talk to me."

Jason wonders if all the Bat kids are given mandatory pamphlets from Bruce titled: _How to Piss Jason Todd Off 101_.

"Who the hell made you my bloody counselor, Replacement?" Jason scoffs and narrows his eyes. "And what the fuck makes you think I'm willing to talk to you at all? Last I checked, you broke into my place. I could have you arrested."

Tim's hands visibly clench at his sides as he takes a deep breath. "That's bull. You're wanted by the law just as much as me- probably even more. Besides, if you were really concerned about people breaking and entering onto private property, then you wouldn't have done it yourself last night."

Jason's had enough. He levels his gun straight at the younger boy. "I wasn't going to kill you," He shrugs. "I didn't want to make Bruce any angrier after he finds out about Dick. But you know what? Fuck all of it, this is a war. In a war there's gonna be casualties." He slams the trigger.

Just as a bullet is releasing from the barrel the windows explode in a glass parody of fireworks. A bat-a-rang slices through the air and clogs the barrel of Jason's gun. It backfires, and a burst of pain shudders through his hand, lighting every nerve on fire. Dropping the gun in surprise, he clutches his hand tightly to his chest. The noise clears and Jason raises his head to see who the newest intruder is. 

 "Dammit Bruce. I do have a front door, you know."


	3. The Word on The Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Batman #639 Under the Hood story line. I'm sorry it's been longer than I expected. Here's a video about the Batfam I made to make you feel better: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAHdOjMtjLQ

"I used the front door," Tim raises his hand.

"You know how much those windows cost Bruce? I had them specially customized!"

Bruce, to his credit, has the sense to look somewhat sorry.

"I should put ten bullets in your head right now," Jason mutters, and walks over to his shattered windows. Still holding his injured hand to his chest, he starts picking pieces of glass off the floor.

"In his defense, you were about to shoot me." Tim shrugs. "I'm grateful B, don't get me wrong, but I had the situation under control."

Bruce slips his cowl off, face just as unreadable as it when the mask was on. "It looked like you really had it covered Tim. Good job."

Tim squints at his adoptive father.

"I'm all for family bonding," Jason interrupts. "But as you two can see I'm a bit busy right now. How about you two come back in say...never?"

"Now is not the time for jokes." Bruce frowns and turns back to Tim. "I trust you have a good explanation for visiting the Red Hood behind my back?"

Tim visibly blanches. "Well, that's a good question. I, uh...I'd answer it but, um...Jason?"

"He came to confront me about what I did to Dick." There's not really any point in trying to keep Bruce from finding out. He holds up a hand as Bruce opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what he did to his beloved son but is stopped short at the look in his son's eyes. "He's fine, Brucie. Probably sore by now, but that's what happens when you don't see eye to eye."

Replacement makes a snorting noise which Jason chooses to ignore. 

He fully expects Bruce to flip his shit but the only thing the older man does is ask: "Why were you in Blüdhaven?"

Jason goes back to poking at the glass on the floor, not because he feels the need to clean it up but because he can't stand the look on his ex-adoptive father's face. "Isn't that the million dollar question of the day? I guess we're both gonna have to guess on that one because I have no idea."

"Doesn't really seem fair," Tim says. "Dick is pretty much the only human one in the family- no offense to the rest of you. Even if you don't know why you did it, something feels off about this whole thing."

 "Don't you fucking talk to me about what's fair and isn't," Jason retorts. "All of us should know by now that nothing and no one is _fair_."

"Bruce is fair, he doesn't kill." Tim replies.

Jason stands back up, not sure if he feels like laughing or crying. He walks back over to the other boy. "I knew that when you were younger you deluded yourself into thinking Batman was some sort of hero Timmy, but I thought by now you'd have realized how truly pathetic he is. He isn't a hero and he most certainly isn't fair."

"You're a hero?" Replacement scoffs.

"I don't claim to be one," Jason growls and takes a step forward so he towers over Tim. "This man?" He jabs a finger at Bruce. "He's just a man who lost his mommy and daddy and dresses up as a bat in underwear to deal with his emotional trauma"

Tim's eyes narrow and he starts to go up to his tiptoes to get in Jason's face- but before he can say or do anything Bruce pushes the two of them apart with a hand on each chest.

"That's enough, both of you."

Jason shoves Bruce's hand off of him. "'That's enough' he says!" He turns to an imaginary audience and gives an overly emphasized bow. "Batman has given us permission to stop arguing, ladies and gentlemen! We'd better stop or he might threaten to kill us. 'Course we all know he only uses non-lethals. He's much too soft for the _real_ toys."

Bruce's eyes narrow. "Jason,  _enough._ I-"

Jason's visibly trembles with rage; he probably looks insane. It's fine.  _He's fine._

"Save it, Bruce you know I'm right," He feels that anger again- the one that was present when he attacked Dick. It should be an unwelcome feeling but instead he embraces it. "You couldn't kill the fucking Joker. You couldn't kill Dent. You couldn't kill any of them and guess who suffers from those decisions? _The people stupid enough to get close to you._ "

"Is that what all of this has been about?" Suddenly Bruce looks much older and his voice has gone soft. "I know I failed you, but I tried to save you, Jason."

"You think this is about you not saving me in time? I don't know what clouds your judgement worse. Your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality! No- this is bigger than my death. This is about your greatest failure." Jason pauses to direct as much hatred as he can at his former mentor through his glare. "You know what was going on in my head when I died? After I realized you weren't going to save me in time...I comforted myself with the knowledge that you'd beat the living shit out of that monster. I died believing you'd avenge me, Bruce! Imagine my surprise when I came back and realized Joker was still alive."

Jason doesn't voice what else he'd felt- how he'd thought Bruce must have died before he could avenge him. But then he'd found out Bruce was still alive. And then he'd found out that someone new had taken up the mantle of Robin. Everyone got a happy ending except for him. Joker got to live. Batman got a new sidekick. The world kept spinning. The world forgot about Jason Todd- it was almost like he'd never existed.

It takes a moment for Jason to realize that Bruce has been talking for a good minute now, and he hasn't been paying attention.

"...he does insane, horrible things. And then we fight. And then he escapes no matter how hard I try to stop him. That's the punchline- I never stop him." 

Tim looks highly uncomfortable at being present during such a personal argument. He looks especially disturbed when he notices the wicked scowl on Jason's face.

"You could stop him. You've had plenty of chances to blow that stupid ass smirk right off his face. It has nothing to do with how good he is at escaping. It's your weakness. It's always been yours." 

Bruce closes his eyes briefly. "You have no idea how badly I want to kill him, Jason. I do. I've imagined torturing him, killing him, snapping his neck. Inflicting as much pain upon him as he has to others...but if I do that...I'll never come back. Once I cross that line the good inside of me will die."

Jason turns away from both of them and clutches his hand closer to his chest. "I'm not saying you should kill everyone. _Just him._ I want to know why you let that freak live after he murdered me...did you ever actually love me? Did I not mean enough to for you to break your damn rule?"

There's a long silence and neither Tim nor Bruce say anything.

"That's all I wanted to know." His voice cracks but he isn't sure if it's due to anger or something else. He doesn't know what emotion he's feeling. "You can show yourselves the exit." He sits back down, right where the glass shards have fallen but he doesn't feel anything. 

When he allows himself to turn around again, the two are gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry again that this chapter took so long. It wasn't even very good, but the upcoming one'll be better, I promise. Some more character tags are about to be added!


	4. First Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason goes out for a drink, but gets caught up in something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Batman Issue 636 in the Under the Hood story line.
> 
> I know I said I'd update once a week, but once a week is more a goal of mine. Sometimes I get in moods and write more. Sometimes I don't, but I'm trying to be more motivated I swear.

 Jason sits at the bar eyeing the couple next to him. Both are long past what qualifies as drunk and considering how many drinks they've had it's not surprising. After the ninth round or so, both were too drunk to keep it in their pants- leaving Jason a victim of an unplanned peep show. At the moment, the woman is whispering some obscenely filthy things into the mans eyeball, and the man is trying his best to sexually bite her nose off.

Jason shudders when the mans arm brushes his, no doubt the hand attached to it doing something decidedly not PG. He moves over a bar stool, and fantasizes himself wringing their necks before downing his own drink and motioning to the bartender for a refill.

"You look like you've had a rough day," the bartender comments, wiping his hands on his pants after filling Jason's cup.

"You wouldn't know the bloody half of it," Jason sighs wearily, swirling his glass around dejectedly.

"Well, if it's any consolation there's a girl here that asked me to give you this note," The bartender pulls out a red envelope from his pocket and passes it to Jason. "I think she fancies you."

Jason frowns but accepts the envelope. The bartender moves on, leaving Jason to stare at his latest acquisition. There's nothing identifiable on the outside, no tears or frayed edges. For a second, Jason half considers that it might actually be some sort of love letter. He frequents this bar often enough that someone might have taken a liking to him. He isn't that ugly. Then again, the likelihood that it's something else entirely is plausible, given the shitty life he lives.

He calmly opens it, wondering if there is a girl, and if she's watching him right now. Inside the envelope is another envelope. The hell? It's labeled: _For Robin._ His vision involuntarily blurs for a moment before he shakes it off and shreds the envelope apart. Most likely not a potential girlfriend then. The general public wasn't usually aware that he'd been the second Robin.

Inside is a picture, the old Polaroid kind. It's small enough to be the kind that when you snap a photo it pops out from the bottom of the camera instantly.

The lighting is awful, in the photo. It's dark and at first Jason can't tell what the image is supposed to be. There's writing along the bottom of it, perfectly written and in red ink. It reads: " _You never answered the question, Boy Blunder. A or B?_ " Jason's brain takes a moment to process before his eyes widen in shock and he drops the picture quickly, as if he's been burned.

It's a picture of _him_ from the night he _died_. Him...laying beaten on the floor of the warehouse. In a pool of his own blood and eyes tightly closed. Over "Robin Jason" looms the shadow of a man, holding the unmistakable shape of a crowbar in his hand.

Jason grits his teeth and snatches the picture off the table from where he's dropped it. It crumples it in his fist easily.

"Who gave you this?" He demands, shooting up from his chair and looking the bartender in the eye. The man holds both hands up and gestures with his head toward the back of the room. 

Jason grabs his jacket off his chair, stuffs the picture into his pocket and heads toward the back. He scans the chairs quickly, running each person through his mental database. Then, he see's her. A woman, wearing a hat large enough to cover the back of her head and a long thick overcoat. She's in the process of stepping out the back entrance, clearly trying to leave before Jason sees her.

"Hey!" He shouts, breaking into a run and struggling to remove his gun from it's holster at the same time. The women pauses then darts out the door, slamming it firmly behind her. Jason growls in irritation, running faster. When he reaches the door he rams it open with the shoulder that isn't attached to his still injured hand, and hoists his gun up the second he gets outside. He scans the area, quickly running a hand through his hair just to give it something to do. At the end of the alley the woman stops running and turns to smile at him and extends her hand out from behind her. A grey van pulls up in the same second. The door is already open and someone, who'd obviously been waiting, snags her hand and pulls her in.

Jason curses and shoots at the van, but his bullet only clangs against the metal of the van. He tries again and aims for the tire but the car makes a quick U-turn and starts to squeal away. "Dammit!" Jason desperately snatches up a different device and shoots it. A projectile launches itself at the van and latches onto the side. Its lights blinks twice to indicate that its been activated. 

The van is gone in the next second, but it doesn't matter. Jason pulls out another contraption from his back pocket and studies the vans coordinates as it races away. This van _will not_ get away. He recognizes the woman from the bar and he damn well intends to find her, even if it means tearing apart all of Gotham. Yeah, the pale skin, ponytails and insane eyes are a dead giveaway. Harley Quinn.

Wherever Harley is, the Joker isn't far ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter or the one after we're gonna meet Damian, I promise. He isn't in the character tags just for the fun of it. And the plot is starting to develop more- which means more action scenes!


	5. Bidding War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason investigates Harley Quinn and collides with one of his least favorite people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Batman Issue 638 from the Under the Hood story line.
> 
> Honestly, I think I imagined this chapter cooler in my head but I hope people like it anyway.
> 
> Here's another video/tribute I made for the Batfam using the song So Alive: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECciZmfQU6Y

Usually, Jason is proud of his motorcycle. Custom built. Sleek exterior. Speeds that would make Kid Flash jealous- no scratch that. Speeds that would make _the Flash_ jealous.

Right now though, he wishes it'd go faster. It feels like he's trying to drive uphill on an ice rink made of butter. He keeps urging it to speed up, but there's a limit for even the best motorcycles- and he passed it a long time ago.

He doesn't particularly need to go fast. _Probably_ not this fast. He won't lose the van as long as the tracker stays attached to the side, but there _is_ a possibility that it'll fall off. There's no way in hell Jason's going to let that happen. When he catches up with that bloody van he's going to rip Harley from the back and beat the shit out of her until she sings everything she knows about the Joker- even if all she knows is what he had for lunch.

His injured hand (trapped in layers of white gauze) moves to his jacket pocket momentarily, just to see if the photo is still there. It is.

White hot rage temporarily blinds him for what seems like the billionth time today, but he blinks it away and forcibly tears his hand away from the picture. He can't afford to lose his head.

Up ahead, his tracker reads that the van has stopped in a shady area of Gotham. Realistically, all of Gotham is shady but this location is more so than most. Jason leaves his bike about a block away so the motor won't be heard and continues on foot. His destination is an old crumbling building with large rusty letters written on the side. It's obvious the place has been abandoned for a long time.

He swallows hard when he realizes it's an ACE Chemical plant. Of course Joker set his base up here.

Several skeptical looking vans pull up, all filing toward the building in a ragged line. Jason bites his lip, almost angrily, as he realizes he isn't sure which van was the one he'd been tracking. They're all too close together for him to know which one is which from the tracker- and as far as he can tell none of them have the device attached to them. Perfect.

He decides to snatch the van bringing up the rear, ensuring that the drivers ahead would be oblivious to his hijacking. It's easy enough to take out the driver, one perfectly aimed nonlethal tranq and the driver goes out like a light. There isn't anyone in the passenger seat. Thank God for small miracles.

Jason sprints forward, climbs in, throws the man's body in back and grabs the steering wheel all before the vehicle crashes. It's no small feat, especially with his bad hand, so Jason allows himself a second to feel like a badass. 

"The hell?!" A startled voice shouts from the back of the van, just as Jason puts both hands on the wheel. 

Jason whips around, one hand still on the wheel. His injured hand tries to pull his gun from his holster, but he's not having much luck. "Who the shit is back there?" He demands, trying not to sound too caught off guard. Dammit, he's getting sloppy. His eyes narrow into the darkness of the back, but he can't see anything.

There's a clinking sound. Then, without warning something _flies_ out of the dark and wraps itself around his neck. It yanks his head backward until the back of his neck is brutally slammed against the headrest of the seat. His throat constricts painfully as he tries to breathe, and for a second he sees spots. His first instinct is to try to tug whatever the hell is strangling him off, but something tells him that who ever did this wouldn't make it that easy to escape. It feels a lot like wire, and it certainly hurts as much as wire wrapped around his neck would. His injured hand seems to make more progress now that his life is really in danger and he's able to get a knife out of the folds of his jacket. He cuts the torture device neatly from his neck and flings it back into the darkness of the van.

"Who the hell is back there?" He demands, more angrily this time; voice coming out scratchier than normal. Whoever it is tried to kill him, and that definitely isn't the way to get on his good side. The vans in front of him are turning into some sort of loading dock. The ones at the very front are taking their time to unload their goods, so Jason turns his attention from the road to the would-be-murderer.

There's a long pause before someone groans. "Of course it's you. It just  _had_ to be you."

Now that the person has spoken more than two words, Jason thinks he knows who it is. He almost wishes he didn't know, because if he's right then he should have just let the wire strangle him to death. "Damian?" His voices his suspicions.

" _Todd_ ," comes the withering reply.

"Fuck," Jason slouches a little in his seat. Of all the vans he chose to hijack it had to be the same one itty bitty Robin was already in. Damian just happened to be here, in this specific vehicle, at the same damn time as him _on the same day_. There had to be some deity up in heaven laughing at him.

Damian slips out of the shadows, kicking the man's body out of the way as he does. He doesn't make any attempt to come closer though. "You cut my grappling hook."

"Shouldn't have tried to murder me with it," Jason replies evenly, rubbing his neck a little. "Doesn't Bruce have a rule against killing?"

Damian ignores him, clearly on his own agenda. "Why are you sabotaging my mission?"

Jason rolls his eyes as he guides the van forward a whopping two feet. (Seriously, this line is longer than Bohemian Rhapsody.) "I could ask you the same thing."

"Tt, father ordered this to be a stealth mission- if you mess it up Todd... I know over three hundred ways to torture you over the span of days without killing you."

"Good, I'm not a fan of being killed, little demon. What's Bats got you investigating that requires a stealth mission?"

Damian frowns, and it's obvious he doesn't want to tell Jason. 

Eventually though, the youngest Robin states as simply as he can (and without revealing too much, Jason notes): "Drug trafficking."

"Really?" Jason's eyebrows knit together. "That's strange. What would Harley be doing trafficking drugs?"

Damian moves a little closer, intrigued but trying his best to sound disinterested. "What's Harley got to do with my mission?"

Jason jolts the van forward for a second, just for kicks, and Damian stumbles forward, slamming his elbows against the dashboard. The look he gives Jason is one of pure murder.

"We were moving," Jason shrugs innocently, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the line of vans in front of them.

Damian growls something under his breath, but doesn't try to kill Jason, which is a good sign. "The mission," Damian gets out between gritted teeth. He seems to be struggling with what he wants to say next. "I think...if we are both going to be liabilities to one another and we both appear to have our own reasons for being here...It...it might be it in our best interests to partner up."

Jason would have done a spit take if he'd been drinking anything. He settles for choking on his salivia."You want to work _together_? You and me? Red Hood and Baby Batman?"

Damian scowls, and his posture changes so his arms fold across his chest. "This doesn't mean I like you Todd. You are not my ideal partner. I only suggest we take this course of action because you sabotaged my mission. You appear to be very good at messing things up."

Jason pretends he didn't hear that last bit.

Damian continues, in the same 'I'm-better-than-everyone' voice. "It would be increasingly difficult for either of us to get in the building without the other."

Jason nods. Damian's right, though that doesn't mean he has to like it. Having a tiny Batman with him could be useful. "What do you have in mind then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my first job, so I might not be able to write as often anymore. (Not that I've been doing very well with that anyway.) I have absolutely no idea. I'm kind of scared because I'm not really a social person and I've heard being friends with your coworkers is what makes or breaks your experience. I start later today. It's an 8 hour shift, I don't know how I'm going to survive because that seems like an awfully long time for the first day, and for someone who's never had a job before.
> 
> I read this forum about people's experiences at their first jobs in fast food restaurants and now I'm even less confident. Thanks internet.


	6. All They Do is Watch Us Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason would like things for things to go according to plan, he really would. But clearly, that's too high of an expectation when Damian is involved.
> 
> Currently, he's sitting in the Batcave, injured hand in a full arm sling, feet propped up on the batcave's computer consoles. Bruce is a few feet away, eyes dark as he holds Damian's hand in his. The older man kind of looks like he wants to strangle Jason, but it's hard to tell if that's just his normal facial expression or not.
> 
> "What happened?" Bruce grits out, and yeah, there's the closure. He's definitely angry.
> 
> Rewind to four hours earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Batman 648 and 649 Under the Hood story line. Some people put disclaimers, I wonder if I should to. People know I don't own Batman, right? And I guess for those of you who somehow thought I did- I do not own Batman.

Jason would like things for things to go according to plan, he really would. But clearly, that's too high of an expectation when Damian is involved.

Currently, he's sitting in the Batcave, injured hand in a full arm sling, feet propped up on the batcave's computer consoles. Bruce is a few feet away, eyes dark as he holds Damian's hand in his. The older man kind of looks like he wants to strangle Jason, but it's hard to tell if that's just his normal facial expression or not.

"What happened?" Bruce grits out, and yeah, there's the closure. He's definitely angry.

Rewind to four hours earlier.

* * *

Jason kept his head down as he approached the security guard. He hoped his movements weren't as stiff as they felt- the uniform he and Damian had stripped the driver of was way too fucking tight, confining and it rubbed all the worst places. Why did everyone in the world have to be born so freaking little? It made him feel like a giant.

The uniform itself resembled something akin to a prison jumpsuit. Only instead of the usual blinding orange it was made from the worlds ugliest throw up color. It also felt like it was made of some sort of itchy rubbing material that managed to drive Jason mad before he even got out of the vehicle.

He and Damian had undergone a heated argument over who would pretend to be the driver and distract the guard and who got to be a bad ass and sneak into the base undetected. Admittedly, Damian made some good points about his age and height and Jason was forced to be the fake driver. He planned to get even with the little shit later, of course. Playing a dumb inexperienced man wasn't really his forte- regardless of what Tim or Damian might say.

When he was within a few feet of the guard and the doors to the loading area, he pulled the brim of his baseball cap styled hat down further; a last ditch effort to not be recognized. Just because the Red Hood had a helmet that hid his face didn't mean someone wouldn't recognize Jason Todd. The street rat Bruce Wayne had saved from the gutter wasn't a headline most people forgot easily, even if Jason was legally dead.

"Hey there," He kept his tone light as he flashed a smile at the man standing by the door. "Gosh, I'm sorry to bother you sir but I'm having some engine trouble." He adjusted his stance from his normal one to something a bit more innocent. "I was wondering if you or someone could please help me? I gotta get home soon to my sister and I'm afraid it's gonna get dark pretty soon here." Hell, it was no Dick Grayson charm but Jason figured it was good enough.

The security guards eyes softened a bit as he looked Jason over. "Which one's your van?'

Jason forced himself to look overly grateful as he turned to point out the hijacked van near the back. "The one at the end, sir. It started smoking a lot, and I got really nervous. I kept thinking to myself: 'If I die my sister is gonna kill me.'"

The guard barked out a light laugh and held out his hand. "Dave Finley, pleased to meet you."

"Jack Goff," Jason returned shaking the mans hand and winced as he glanced down at his unfortunate name tag. The real Jack Goff, currently unconscious in the car, must get made fun of a lot.

Dave looked mildly amused but apparently his acting skills exceeded Jason's because he didn't say anything. Jason showed him to the car. He glanced up to the dark alcove on the rooftops around the corner where Damian sat, awaiting his signal.

"There was smoking in the front seat and passenger seat..." 

When Dave opened the van door to see inside, Jason pretended to not notice and approached "too quickly". The result had him slamming his leg against the van door in a parody of an accident. "Bloody hell! Why is that door open?!" Jason chanced a quick look into the shadows where Damian was supposedly hiding. He couldn't see him but Damian's' return signal: two quick flashes of his red laser was confirmation enough that he'd heard Jason and was on his way into the building now that Dave wasn't guarding the door. Jason hoped the lock combination wouldn't be too hard for Damian to break. He'd heard that Tim was mostly the computer geek in the family.

Jason feigned an injury (he had too much experience with actual injuries for this to look too horribly fake) and hopped on one foot for a moment while scrunching up his face in "pain". His "injured leg" was clutched dramatically in his arms and Jason was sure he looked like quite the sight.

Dave stopped where he was and turned to look at Jason, looking horrified. "Oh my- did I hurt you? Shit, I'm so sorry. I can get you some ice or something if you bruise or...or damn _I'm so sorry_!"

Jason was tempted to roll his eyes. Guys like Dave- people who were just too nice for their own good were just _so_  easy to take advantage of. It was guys like him who failed to see that the world was a "kill or be killed" place. Guys that thought everyone wanted to help and love one another. Unfortunately, he wasn't here to look down on Dave, no matter how naive he was. Right now, he had an Oscar to win.

He took a deep breath and dug deep into his soul to produce another affectionate "I'm-trying-to-charm-your-pants-off" smile for Dave. "Sorry, no you didn't hurt me. I didn't mean to shout. I'm just a little tense because it's been a really rough day."

Dave still looked mildly distressed. His eyes were dilated slightly, his palms were sweaty and his right index finger was tapping nervously against his pants leg. The detective part of Jason's mind instinctively linked that to an abusive childhood. This man was probably emotionally damaged and didn't like to be yelled at, probably as a result of his parents shouting often. "Are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble, I could take you inside and get you some ice. I would really like to make this up to you." Everything in Dave's posture read  _please don't be mad at me._

Jason was about to decline when he realized how (suspiciously) perfect that suggestion was. It was like the cards were just lining up for him and he didn't even have to work for it. To hell with it. "Well, I guess going to get a little ice wouldn't hurt. Can we make sure the vans okay first?"

Dave practically threw himself into the van, took a look at some wires then went to the hood to peer inside. He checked so quickly that Jason had to replay the events in his mind to reassure himself that it had actually happened. "Everything looks fine to me, I'm not sure what the issue was. Maybe something from the back was smoking and you thought it was the van." Dave closed the hood and started for the back of the van. "I can check to see if it was any of the items in back-"

"NO!" Jason grimaced. Real Jack was still quite naked in the back. "I mean, no, it's okay. I'll figure it out. Do you want to just go get some ice? My leg is really killing me."

That seemed to be the icing on the cake for Dave because his ears immediately turned crimson at the reminder that he'd so rudely "opened the door on Jack Goffs leg." Jason felt slightly bad for manipulating him, but when life gives you lemons or some shit like that.

Jason watched as he punched the code for the door in, but made a point of making it look like he wasn't watching by covering his eyes and saying rather childishly, "Go ahead, I won't peek." Knowing the code might come in handy later.

After that it was pretty cut and dry. Jason knocked Dave out in the break room with a quick calculated strike when his back was turned. Originally, he'd planned on stuffing him in the closet but after getting to know the guy, Jason really thought he deserved something a little less crude and stereotypical bad guy. Eventually, Jason decided that Dave would get to sleep soundly in a corner, buried underneath some random boxes and barrels. Jason even made him a makeshift pillow of sorts out of his ugly drivers uniform (which was _not_ easy to peel off).

Then, he went back to the main door where Damian had promised to wait for him. It was kind of like a checkpoint. Honestly, Jason wouldn't have been surprised if he'd just gone off to do whatever he did on stealth missions alone. The boy didn't seem to have many morals. Jason didn't care much about that, morals were kind of flimsy in his book. But he did care if Damian abandoned him after using him to get into the chemical plant. A large black duffel thumped by his feet from the ceiling, jerking him from his thoughts.

Inside was his equipment, God bless Bruce's little brat. His helmet was the first to go on, then his jacket over the black t-shirt he'd brought. He crossed his fingers that he wouldn't get shot today- there wasn't enough room in the bag to fit a bulletproof vest.

Damian hopped down from the rafters soundlessly, following a second after the duffel bag, and gave Jason a disapproving scowl. "That took a long time, Todd."

"No code names in the field," Jason replied and slapped his guns to his thighs. "Ready to go?"

"I will be leading this mission, no exceptions." Damian stated matter-of-factually.

Jason laughed. "You really are your fathers son. C'mon, I saw this suspicious boiler thing a few feet back."

The boiler thing turned out to be a giant vat that stretched nearly to the ceiling. Leaking from the sides looked like some sort of neon green liquid. 

Jason whistled at the sight. "That looks pretty shady,"

"That must be the source of the drugs," Damian frowned even deeper, if that was possible. "Let's collect a sample and return it to Father."

Jason removed a gun from his thigh, clicked a few rounds of ammo into it and scooted Damian to the side. His head was having an idea, and Jason wasn't so sure he liked it. "Out of the way Babybat, I think I know what this green liquid is. If I'm right, you stay back, okay?"

Damian stood on his tiptoes, as if that would help him get a better view of it. "What? What is it?"

"Wouldn't you two love to know?" An overly high pitched voice called from behind them. 

The two vigilantes turned. 

"Not many can sneak up on me, Quinn." Damian tutted. "Impressive."

Harley giggled and swayed slightly. "Mistah J didn't give you two permission to be back here!"

Jason held up both his hands, but kept the hand holding his gun clenched tightly in his grip. "Hey, you don't know that Harley. I just saw him in the hall and he said to come in." Honestly, he had no idea if Harley would buy that fake ass story but she wasn't exactly known for her decision making skills (or at least, not logical decision making skills.) The girl was off her rocker.

Harley's shook her head, a bit too violently. "That isn't true, Red Hood! My puddin' is away on business in Blüdhaven right now!"

"What's the Joker doing in Blüdhaven, Quinn?" At the mention of Blüdhaven, Damian lept forward suddenly, closing the ten foot gap between the two of them. He roughly grabbed Harley by the front of her costume. Jason would have laughed at the sight of an eleven year old trying to manhandle a woman twice his height if he hadn't had such a bad feeling about the whole thing.

"Wait, Damian!" Jason shouted, surging forward to wrench Damian off of the woman, but one scathing look from Robin had him stumbling back, momentarily.

"He wouldn't tell me," Harley paid no attention to Jason's outburst as her expression suddenly got very sad and she slowly sank to her knees. "He said I didn't need to know. He doesn't tell me anything ever! It's like he doesn't trust me, you know?" She sniffled and wiped her eyes noisily. "I...I could really do with a hug."

Damian turned up his nose. "Hm. You should be glad I believe you, clown. Otherwise, this would end very differently." He released her costume and turned to Jason. "Come, Hood. Clearly, Quinn is of no help to us."

Harley moved too quickly for Jason to do anything. She got to her feet and shot a tranquilizer dart right into Damian's neck, all in the blink of an eye. The fourth Robin thumped to the floor and began to convulse jerkily. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Harley laughed maniacally, laughed out a garbled "tricked you!" then proceeded to skip from the room. The doors slammed shut behind her, and the sounds of locks being put into place made it all the more surreal. Jason had enough sense to fire a few bullets in her direction, but his concentration was elsewhere.

He knelt to the floor to observe his not-brother. Damian was all but foaming at the mouth now, eyes extremely glassy and skin already turning clammy and feverish.

"You stupid shit," Jason muttered, placing his fingers over the veins in the boys arm. Still beating. A little fast maybe but it didn't look like he was dying. He pulled the tranquilizer from the back of Damian's neck. There was still a small amount of liquid inside that hadn't been injected into the 11 year old. It was the same green liquid as the in the vat next to them. If this was what he thought it was- then this was going to be a shittier day than usual.

And then- Damian jerked upward, gasping and panting. Jason could tell from just his eyes that he was far far gone. A batarang appeared in Robins hands then flew forward, right at Jason's hand. It knocked his gun away, sending it clattering to the floor. 

"No!" Damian shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You can't take them! Stay away!" His eyes filled with unmistakable rage and he pounced at Jason. If he hadn't been so shocked, Jason would have done something to defend himself. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Shouldn't have been so off guard. The boy caught him by his injured hand and twisted so hard that his whole arm exploded with agony. His nerves ignited once again, even more painful then the initial injury. Damian was able to twist his arm behind his back- Jason heard something shatter- and bowl him to the ground all in a matter of seconds.

Damian trapped him underneath the blade of his sword, pinning him between himself and the concrete floor. Jason stared up into the younger boys eyes. "Robin, listen to me. It's fear toxin. None of what you're seeing is real- I'm not your enemy."

Damian pressed the blade to his throat, eyes wild and breath coming in short little gasps. "You will die."

Jason swallowed thickly but continued as if Damian hadn't said anything. "You have to fight it Damian or the Joker's going to win." His hand grappled along the ground slowly, fingers searching for the gun he'd dropped. "This isn't reality. And even if it was, Batman wouldn't want you to kill."

A moment of clarity dawned in the boys eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. Jason tried again. "Your father wouldn't want you to kill, Robin."

Robins voice was quiet and unsure. "I have to, it's the only way."

"No. It's not. The fear you're experiencing right now?' Jason swallowed his fears of calling Damian by his real name in the field in an effort to get him to pull back to reality. "Damian, it's making you crazy. If you could see how you're smiling right now-"

"I will not let you kill my family," Damian's voice was husky and dangerous. There was something definitive there. Damian was done talking. The blade in his hand quickly sliced deeper into his neck, drawing blood and it hurt like hell. Jason hesitated for a fraction of a moment and then  _BANG!_

Damian jerked off of him, collapsing into a heap on the ground.

Jason looked at the boy next to him then at the gun in his hand, then back at Damian's unmoving body. "Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just personal rambles. My job sucked at first but it's better now cos I've made friends. I've even trained two other people now and I've only worked there like like 8 or 9 days now. Oh, and I got my first paycheck! I'm such an adult. (That's not even remotely true, I'm 16.)
> 
> Speaking of me being 16, a guy who was like 20 or something hit on me during my lunch break. When he asked my age and I answered he jumped up and was like "oh shit, hitting on a 16 year old is illegal or some shit!" Then he pretty much ran out the door.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure how long I want this story to be. I don't want people to get bored with it. I honestly don't even know if people read this, or if they even like it. But I mean I enjoy writing, so I guess regardless if anyone likes it I still want to write.


	7. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's probably more than appropriate to say that Jason can sometimes go batshit crazy- especially when the Joker is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Batman issue 641 from the Under the Hood storyline.

" _You_ shot my son?" Bruce leans forward and it looks like he's about to stand- but the hand enclosed in his youngest son's won't allow him to get close enough to punch Jason.

Their resident Injured Wonder lays on a movable medical table, breathing fairly normally for a guy who just got shot in the abdomen. Jason wonders if the medical table is the same one that he and Dick used to get treated on all those years ago. It had a squeaky wheel. Jason remembers that he tried avoiding injuries with a passion just so he wouldn't have to lay there and listen to it.

"It was self defense, Bruce," Jason shrugs.

Bruce's expression darkens. "But even if it hadn't been, I doubt you would have hesitated to shoot Damian. The two of you haven’t exactly been model brothers toward one another."

Jason removes his feet from the console so he can look at Bruce properly. "I don't know how you want me to respond to that. Did you honestly expect me to be a shining example for anything?" There’s an inkling of spite in his words, but not enough to insinuate that Jason is aiming to start a fight.

Bruce takes a deep breath and closes his eyes momentarily. "Answer the question- would you have shot him even if he wasn't attacking you?"

Truthfully, Jason doesn't think he would have shot Damian. He seems alright. He’s got obvious emotional issues- a lot that trace back to his parents, can kick a lot of ass, and seems to enjoy using fancy words that he probably only uses to sound smart. Jason can relate to at least two thirds of that.

But instead of telling Bruce any of that, he goes with what the Red Hood would say in that situation. "It's a likely possibility. He’s the son of Batman, after all.”

"You’re my son too, Jason-”

“ _Past tense_ ,” Jason snaps back before the other man gets the chance to finish. “You are not going to turn this into another emotional slugfest. I’m just here to see if Damian croaks overnight. Then I’m out.”

Bruce lets that comment hang in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time before he decides it’s safe to say something without Jason exploding. "You never explained why you were at the chemical plant..”

It’s Bruce's _"inform me of what you've learned Robin"_ voice. Jason hates that he feels the urge to be Bruce’s perfect little soldier and report to him exactly what happened. You aren’t Robin, he reminds himself, feeling a confusing mixture of anger and shame at the thought.

“I went there on a hunch,” he tells his ex-adoptive father.

Bruce waits for him to continue.

Instead of saying anything else, Jason stands and pulls out the crumpled photo from his pocket and hands it to the other man.

As Bruce unfolds it and stares at it, Jason tries his best to school his face into a neutral uncaring expression. He won’t crack- he’s not going to break down in front of Batman over a picture.

What happens next is completely unexpected.

Bruce’s breath hitches and he doesn’t say anything. The longer he stares at the photo, the more Jason starts to regret coming back to the Batcave. Honestly, he’d just thought that he had an obligation to be there to see the youngest Bat Brat die. He was the one to start the tradition, after all.

It would've been near impossible to notice Bruce's quiet shallow breaths and slightly wetter eyes, if Jason hadn't been raised by the greatest detective in the world. It took a moment for Jason to realize that Bruce is showing the symptoms of a person who's crying. It took another moment for Jason to realize that Bruce is struggling not to cry over _him._

"Bruce..." Jason trails off awkwardly. He doesn't know what to say. He just wants Bruce to stop sniffling. It isn’t a good look for Batman.

Bruce looks up from the picture finally and clears his own throat and blinks like he'd forgotten Jason was standing there. "Yes...so what does the night you- what does this photo have to do with Ace Chemicals?"

Jason gives him the fifteen second version of his run in with Harley, though he leaves out the bit at the bar. Bruce wasn't ever too uptight about his adoptive sons drinking alcohol underage (mainly at social events) but he still wouldn't be very pleased to hear what his renegade son did in his free time. Jason isn't sure why he cared what Bruce would think.

"Do you think Harley was telling the truth? Is the Joker back?" Bruce turns over the picture in his hand and examines the back with precision.

"I don't think Harley would try to pull anything like this off without him," Jason answers truthfully and settles more comfortably back into his chair. Much of the built up tension is still there, but he forces himself to relax anyway.

"I received no word that the Joker had escaped Arkham," The older man quietly notes to himself as he glances at the giant computer monitor- almost as if he expected an alarm to go off right that second.

Jason's skin crawls just from thinking about the man, and he noticeably flinches at his name. He catches himself just before Bruce notices and subtly turns it into a shiver- played off by placing a hand on his arm and rubbing it as if he'd gotten cold.  _He isn't scared, dammit._ The Red Hood isn't weak.

"Clearly, he must have some goal or objective." Bruce says thoughtfully as he carefully removes his hand from Damian's clenched fingers and stands up. "Sending you this picture was supposed to do something. Though the Joker may play the part of a man doing improvisation convincingly, we both know he isn't. He's very capable of drawing up plans and schedules for any twisted amusement he comes up with."

Bruce goes over to the Batcomputer and Jason follows close behind. He makes sure to stand shoulder to shoulder with his ex-father, just to see the height difference. Bruce is still taller, much to Jason's chagrin.

"Pulling up surveillance to the Joker's cell now," Bruce's detective voice returns as he hits a seemingly random number of keys on his keyboard. A box pops up. A video fills it and along with the flickering black and white feed is a time stamp. Except, where the time stamp should be there isn't one. Instead the numbers 424242424242 repeat themselves all along the bottom of the screen.

"That doesn't look right," Jason squints and leans forward. The feed itself contains a bed and a jail cell- on the bed is a long lump, covered with a ratty blanket. The head is turned toward the wall so that it isn't visible.

Bruce mutters something under his breath then grabs one of his untraceable phones to place a call. The moment someone picks up on the other line, Bruce orders in his deep Bat voice that they check the Joker's cell immediately.

A few minutes later, a pale young man dressed in a guards uniform rushes toward the cell and unlocks it. immediately, he grabs the covers on the bed and throws them off of the sleeping figure. From the force of grabbing the sheets, the head is turned.

It's Jason.

Only it's not.

Jason's not quite sure he's seeing it right, until Bruce is grabbing him and pushing him back so that he can't see the screen. Jason let's him.

What he'd seen- it was him from when he was younger. The fake one that was placed in his coffin as a decoy. Except fake Jason was grinning widely, bloody and insane, a Robin mask fitted across his face like some sort of twisted banner of what he used to be. Across his forehead in crude red bolded letters had been the words " _HA HA HA_."

Bruce says something but Jason doesn't quite hear him. 

His ex-father looks worried, Jason notices. Good. Bruce turns away and slams a button on the console, speaking urgently into the comm system with somebody.

Jason staggers backward and collapses back onto the chair he'd been sitting on earlier. This was getting to be too much. He isn't sure he's in control of the situation anymore- maybe he never was. The Joker had truly escaped Arkham. The Clown Prince of Gotham was free- and Jason had ruined his biggest punchline.

"Bruce?" He hears himself saying. Bruce is at his side in an instant.

"How did he know which body was mine? How did he know what I looked like to be able to do that?"

Bruce's posture stiffens even more so, if possible.

Jason doesn't let the man answer. He tilts his head to look his ex-father's directly in the eyes, horrible clarification suddenly dawning on him. " _Shit!_ Bruce! I told him my name! I told him my name!" His head starts to spin,  _it hurts._ It feels like there's a vise, gripping and squeezing him inwards from both sides. Thousands of thoughts run through his mind, faster and faster until he feels dizzy enough to throw up. "How? How could I- he promised me!" Jason's sputters and he's a mess. _He's_ a wreck. He isn't thinking clearly anymore. "He promised he would stop if I told him...God I was so stupid." He lurches forward, but somebody catches him and holds him upright.

He has one last clear thought before Bruce plunges the syringe into his neck. 424242. On a number pad- that's a funny joke. Ha. Ha. Ha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, golly guys I'm sorry about this chapter not coming out. I'd written some of it a month and a half ago but I got distracted (and honestly I sort of lost the will to write this. But it's back now due to a really really nice comment on the last chapter- and I'm excited about the direction I've decided to take this.)
> 
> Anyways, I've been working a lot and I traveled a little bit recently. The job is alright, I get money so that's good. And I've been also busy with school since that started a few weeks ago.And volleyball season is in full swing now- I'm a captain for the varsity team so that means I need to be focused and stuff for that.
> 
> Here's another Batfam video I made. They just keep coming: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AP0mPYlWI0
> 
> I can't tell you when to expect the next chapter. I've already started writing it but that doesn't really have much say on when I'll finish it.


	8. The Away Team Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick, Tim, Bruce and Jason in the Batcave.

The first thing Jason hears when he regains consciousness is arguing. The voices are loud and they echo painfully through his head as if a megaphone is pressed against his ear.

"I'm doing the best I can- how was I supposed to know this would happen?"

"You should have told me the first time you saw him!"

"I could say the same to you."

Jason blinks groggily and tries to sit up, only to find that his hands are restrained loosely at his sides. Annoyed, he slips off the padded cuffs and directs his glare at the first people he sees. "Can you two keep it the fuck down over there?"

Dick looks surprised to see him awake and he immediately hurries to his side. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

There's something in his tone that sounds genuine. It's really fucking annoying that Dick is able to pretend that he gives a shit.

 "I should be asking you if you're okay- how's that wrist?" Jason's smile is not a nice one.

Dick's expression wavers for a moment but he composes himself quickly. "It's fine. Healing fast. How's your hand?"

"Just peachy." Jason pushes himself into a sitting position and notices that he's lying on the table with the squeaky wheel. Damian is no where to be seen. "Where's the brat?"

Bruce comes to stand next to Jason, though both notice that he places himself a few feet more feet from Dick than necessary. "Damian was moved upstairs to his room so he can sleep off the injury without interruption."

That's actually pretty fucking ironic, Jason thinks. "Sleeping it off? Like me?" Before Bruce can cut in and say how it was for 'his own health' Jason jumps off the table and laughs. The wheel squeals in protest to being moved. Jason ignores that and the wave of nausea that sweeps over him from getting up too quickly. He spins so that he's looking Bruce directly in the eyes. "Isn't that such a Batman thing to do though? Sedating someone he cares about to keep them from hurting. That's pretty fucking rich."

Bruce, at this point, doesn't say anything. He's just watching Jason with _that look_ in his eyes and dammit it all to hell Jason has had it up to here with _that stupid pitying look._ That isn't the point of his speeches- he doesn't want a fucking pity party.The pity, however, seems to be permanently etched to Bruce's face these days.

Jason punches him with his left hand, as hard as he can, right in the jaw. Bruce staggers backward and he supports himself against the computer console to keep from falling. His expression is the same though, almost like he'd expected Jason to hit him. And hell, that's annoying too. Jason raises his arm to maybe hit him again, he isn't sure yet, but before he can land a blow his elbow is seized by Dick.

"That's enough, Jay." Dick's voice is soft and he doesn't look angry either. He sounds like he's trying to talk to a small cornered animal and that's irritating as well. His first instinct is to yank his arm back and punch Dick too, but after thinking it through Jason decides that doing that wouldn't help anyone. And while he isn't really about helping his former family, he may need them if he wants to find the Joker before the clown finds him.

"Okay," he hears himself say, and he's still shaking with rage but he doesn't do anything about it. He steps back from Bruce but doesn't drop his gaze. Bruce still isn't saying anything, and that's fine. It's probably better that way.

Jason let's himself inhale for a moment and exhale. It's a calming method that Talia taught him, and it rarely works but right now it does. He probably looks a little more than crazy, but Jason isn't here for good impressions. He aligns himself with one of the computer monitors and loads the log in window. His password is still the same one after all this time, and Jason can't decide if he's angry about that or not. Choosing  _Robin is a beast_ isn't exactly one of his proudest moments as a vigilante, looking back on it.

He can feel both Dick and Bruce watching his back, but neither of them say anything. Jason pulls up a small article of his adoption and a few photos of his younger self pre-death. "There's not much on me for the Joker to find," he finally comments, tone flat and seemingly disinterested. Inside, he's relieved that the press had found him fairly disinteresting. Sure, there were a few digs at Bruce for adopting yet another child (and what could a billionaire playboy possibly be doing with them?) and the usual _'why him's'_ when people saw how ill-mannered and scruffy Jason was.

"Enough though, for him to know that Bruce Wayne is most likely the Batman," Bruce is saying, and he's moved to the largest monitor and already brought up a few files and photos of the Joker. 

"I think I should go take a look at that factory. See if I can find anything that Jason and Damian might have missed," Dick says, pretending not to see the hateful glare Jason is sending his way. "I've had a bit more experience with fear toxins- and I'll know to take an antidote."

"Didn't you mention Harley saying Joker was in Blüdhaven?" Bruce squints at his screen.

"Yeah."

"Street camera facial recognition picked up the Joker in downtown Gotham, getting out of a car and into another. If he was gone and it wasn't a ruse- then he's back now."

Dick is already suiting up when Jason turns to look at him. "How long ago was that Bruce?"

Bruce taps a few more times into his keyboard. "About forty minutes ago. It appears that the car turned into an abandoned warehouse used to store furniture on the edge of the city."

"Great. I'll go check it out and report back in an hour or two." Dick slides his escrima sticks into the holsters onto his back and flashes the two of them a smile.

Bruce looks like he might object but finally he just sighs then calls into the shadows, "Tim, you can come out. I want you to go with Dick."

And then there's Red Robin, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, poking his head out from a crevice in the walls. He has the good sense to look sheepish.

"Hang on," Jason frowns, eyes narrowing slightly. "Dick and Tim can't go- the Joker is mine. No one else is going anywhere."

Tim's already got his uniform in hand but he glances over at Jason nervously, like he expects him to shoot him. Jason might though, so it's for the best that the younger boy is on guard.

"It's purely an informational mission. There will be no confrontations or fighting- completely stealth." Bruce looks into Dick's eyes as he says that, a warning layered not so secretly underneath it. He then nods at Tim to get dressed. The boy still looks wary but he dissapears into the dark of the cave once again.

Dick just grins good naturedly. "Sure, you got it B. Ninja stealth mode."

"I don't see why Tim is going and not me," Jason mutters, gaze going to where Tim had been standing. He does understand a little bit though- the Joker wants him dead. If Jason goes right now, while he's still disoriented then he might very well end up dead again.

"Tim can hear you, you know," Tim's voice echoes back to the other three vigilantes. He sounds put out, but since he's too far away for Jason to see, he doesn't send a bullet his direction.

"Dick and Tim work well together." Bruce states simply, though it looks like he also wants to say that he wants to keep Jason safe. He doesn't though, because that would be uncomfortable for the both of them.

"You think Dick and I don't work well together?" Jason asks and thinks back to the last time he and Dick were alone. "Dammit, fine."

"It's what works best." Bruce replies. There isn't any accusation in his tone, but Jason can still feel it. His fists clench at his sides but he nods. There is some sense to what he's saying- if he goes then the chances of them recovering information without arguing is considerably lower. That doesn't mean he has to like it. And he isn't going to pretend that he does.

"Fine, but if I can't go I'm going to be on the comms. I want to monitor how it goes."

Bruce opens his mouth, probably to tell Jason to shut up, but Alfred chooses that moment to buzz in on the PA and announce that 'young master Damian has regained consciousnesses and is demanding to see his father.' That gets another sigh from Bruce and he wearily tosses a headset to Jason whilst telling Alfred that he'll be up in a minute. The older man is gone in an instant and then it's just Jason alone in the cave.

Tim and Dick have already left the cave on their respective vehicles so Jason sits down in front of the computer and pulls up the camera feed from Nightwing and Red Robin's masks while opening a separate screen of traffic feed and the coordinates of their trackers. It's strange to be on the other side of the operation, but if this is the most efficient way to get to the Joker, Jason'll do it.

Whatever it takes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a filler chapter, I guess. I mean not much really happens here that affects the plot but the next one will for sure. I just felt like getting this out was important- and I wanted to have some more interactions with all of them. Since I haven't written fics for this fandom before this one, I'm still sort of toying around with all of their reactions to one another.


	9. The Away Team Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deals with the Joker hardly ever end well. Jason should know better by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm never motivated to write. It comes in short bursts so I write a few paragraphs at time and come back to it another time.
> 
> I'm also working on a Tim story, but I don't want to publish that before I finish this. It would be a great accomplishment if I ever finished a story.

"You have exactly twenty minutes to get here, or both of these birds are going to be put down." The Joker smiles and it's all malice. His eyes are sharp and squinted, staring directly into the camera. "Or, I suppose I could do it now. I'm feeling rather unpredictable today."

Jason's throat feels dry and for a moment he can't speak or breathe. His eyes flicker to Tim, who's still visible in the background behind the Joker. He's unconscious, laying limp on the ground with at least two tranquilizers impaled in his lower calf. There's no way of knowing what he was shot with, so Jason can only hope it's only a sedative. He looks back at where Dick is, held immobile between five guards and a thick rope that brings both his hands in front of him and loops around his neck. Jason knows Dick is pretty good with knots, but trying to get out of that one subtly and without choking will prove difficult.

"Wait," Jason swallows thickly. "I'm coming. Don't kill them."

Dick frowns. "No, Jason don't come for us- _oof_." Whatever else he wants to say is cut short by a punch to the gut, courtesy of a short burly guard to his right.

The Joker shrugs, a bit too playfully for Jason's taste _(this isn't a fucking game),_ and holds up an old fashioned timer in view of the camera. "Tick tock tick tock, _Jason Todd_." And, as if people's lives aren't at stake, the man tosses the camera (formerly attached to Nightwing's motorcycle) over his shoulder and the screen on Jason's end fills with static.

_Jason Todd._

Just the way Joker says Jason's name is enough to make him feel sick...

An alarm appears on the screens of all the monitors, beeping in red letters: ARKHAM BREAKOUT. INMATES ON THE LOOSE.

Of, fucking, course.

Hastily, Jason finds his helmet, snaps a pistol into one of his holsters and jumps on his motorcycle- he'll have to let Bruce know about the breakout if he doesn't know already.  Jason pulls up a phone connection the moment he's out on the streets.

"Bruce, listen to me. There's a-"

"Breakout at Arkham. I know."

"Don't interrupt me, there's more. Joker's got Red and Nightwing. I'm heading to the warehouse they're at now."

There's a sound that resembles gritting teeth and Bruce trying to compose himself before he replies. "Joker must have planned the breakout at Arkham as well. I want you to try to hold him off for as long as you can while I round up the inmates. I'll be there as soon as possible. _And listen to me- do not engage_." Bruce is already on the move, if the rustling noises in the background on Bruce's end indicate anything. 

"Sure, I got it." Jason lies, and it's a good thing he was raised on the streets because lying is second nature by now. He'll engage if he pleases.

Bruce disconnects their conversation but Jason hardly notices. All he can think about is how he's going to beat the hell out of the Joker. Jason knows despicable, and he knows that he's balancing on the thin line himself, but a guard pretending to need assistance to lure his ex-brother vigilantes into a trap is a pretty shitty thing to do. (For the record, Jason had always warned Dick that his unending supply of trust for strangers would get him into trouble one day.)

He doesn't have much time to dwell on everything. The motorcycle reaches the warehouse in record time- it isn't like the Red Hood ever obeyed traffic signals in the first place. No dirt off his shoulder.

Jason doesn't even really remember throwing down his bike and bursting through the warehouse doors, gun in hand and eyes blazing, but he ends up inside somehow. (Now that he thinks about it, nobody can see his eyes under his hood. That sucks.)

"Hand them over, clown."

The Joker is standing with his back to the door, and doesn't turn around to witness Jason's arrival. Instead, he chuckles. "You're a riot, Red Hood. You think you're in a position to be demanding things?"

Jason considered retorting but thought better of it when he remembered what he'd last seen of Dick and Tim. Any slip up from him would put them in danger. He isn't exactly their number one fan, but if someone's going to hurt them it better damn well be him.

So, as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't have the upper hand here. For now, he must play by the Joker's rules.

Jason does allow himself to utter a string of curses under his breath though, as he takes in the building and his surroundings. The place is smaller than he'd originally thought- but seeing it from the view of a tiny camera would obviously alter his perception. Dick is still standing firmly wedged between a few guards, and looks calm as ever. Though, for people that know him, it's easy to tell that he's worried as hell. There's a bruise forming around his left eye and chafing around his neck but other than that he's physically alright.

Tim is no where to be seen. The spot where he'd been on the ground is empty- and Jason feels another surge of anger.

"Put down the gun, Jason, and we can talk like civilized men." Joker still hasn't turned around, and that also bothers Jason. The urge to shoot the asshole is strong, but Jason does what he's told and wordlessly slips the weapon back into his holster. His hands are shaking with undeniable rage.

"Good," The Joker finally turns, slowly and dramatically. He lifts his arms like he's an announcer and if he had a cane and a top hat Jason is damn sure he would have spun the cane and tipped the hat. "I've devised a little game for us to play- for old time's sake of course. It really was luck that you happened to be working with your ex-family before all this madness happened- I thought I'd need to send you another letter."

There's a prolonged silence in which no one speaks- Jason won't rise to the bait.

Joker continues on as if Jason had replied anyway. "Red Robin is your successor and after him is the newest Robin. I know I haven't been very on top of it with these newest birds, I do apologize.  To make up for it, I'm going to go the classic way of breaking a little boy. Because you were the first, I thought it would be charitable of me to let you witness this one's death."

Jason thinks he may have an idea of where this is going, but he doesn't voice his suspicions. It's best not to give the Joker any ideas. He hopes to God that he's wrong.

From a dark shadowy filled corner emerges a muscular man, dragging by the ankle a smaller figure that jerks every few seconds and whimpers. Fuck. Tim.

Harley also appears on to the scene, giggling and smacking a crowbar against her palm. "Can I hit him, Mistah J? Can I?"

A crowbar. If Jason had been scared last night, that was nothing compared to the feeling beginning to cling to him now. He's  _terrified._ Suspicions confirmed. Shit.

"Give me the crowbar, Harley." The Joker snarls, wrenching the weapon from the girls hands. He roughly pushes her backwards and approaches the small shaking form of Red Robin.

"Do you know who I am, sonny boy?" There's a touch of venom amidst his light hearted tone.

Tim appears to be trying to respond but apparently can't because all he gets out is a strangled "Ooh'll ay o this." His limbs proceed to spasm three times in quick succession but his eyes are still lit with defiance.

"Don't worry," The clown bends down and pats Red Robin's hair affectionately. "The drugs will wear off within the next few minutes and you'll likely be able to control yourself again." 

Joker pulls the arm holding the crowbar back, holding it threateningly in the air. There's a cruel grin gracing his features as he does so. "Batter up."

"WAIT!" Dick surges forward, anger and desperation written plainly across his face. "Don't do this. He's just a kid." A few men grab Dick and pull him backward, but Dick keeps struggling.

"So was Red Hood," Joker shrugs nonchalantly, lowering the crowbar back to his side. "What's your point?"

"If you want to get rid of one of Batman's partners then you can kill me. Just let Red Robin go."

Joker bursts out laughing, and continues for a good minute. Then he begins wheezing as he bends over in an attempt to placate himself. "That's a...ha...funny joke Nightwing. We all know you're not really one of daddies partners anymore. You hardly count. However..." And here the clown actually looks like he's considering something. "If Jason volunteered to take Red Robin's place, I wouldn't object."

Dick looks to Jason but Jason can't tell what he's thinking. A beat goes by and he still doesn't volunteer himself. A cold feeling is forming in the pit of his stomach. It's not guilt. It's not.

"If you change your mind, the offer still stands." The Joker gives Jason a knowing look and proceeds to take his first swing at Tim. There's a sickening crunch and Tim lets out a pained grunt. Another blow, another strike and after ten more there's blood beginning to dye the cement floor a nasty red color.

Jason looks away. He refuses to meet Dick's eyes, though he can feel him looking at him. Dick wants him to take Tim's place. Dick, who doesn't know what it feels like. And Tim. A kid that he's always despised. Why should he take his place? It isn't his fault that Tim was stupid enough to get caught like this. He shouldn't have to suffer for his mistakes.

Another scream, this time completely let loose from Tim. Red Robin isn't holding anything back now.

"That's it birdy! Sing for me!"

_Crunch._

Not your fault, not your fault. Jason is beginning to chant inwardly now, eyes still locked solidly onto his feet.

 _Crunch._ A heart wrenching scream turned into a choked sob.

But how can he stand by and let this happen to someone else? Isn't Red Hood supposed to protect children? As much as Jason hates Tim, he wouldn't wish this upon him. He wouldn't wish it on anyone- not even Bruce.

 _Crunch._ A spray of blood lands on Jason's boot and a fresh wave of bile rises in his throat.

"Joker," Jason tries to say, but the words don't come out. He tries again. "Joker. Stop." His voice isn't nearly as confident as he'd wanted it to sound.

The man wipes his brow and turns away from the bloodied body of the boy underneath him. "Did someone say something?"

Jason swallows hard, his mind flashing back to the first time he died. The source of all his nightmares. "I said stop. I'll take Red Robin's place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some rambling:  
> -Gotham came back the other day and it was great!  
> -I quit my job last week. Not necessarily because it was bad, but because I didn't have much time for school and sports and a job.


	10. Under the Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's not going down without a fight, that's for sure.

Jason remembers everything, but that doesn't mean he understands. How was he stupid enough to let this happen _again_? Life's really got a fucked up sense of humor. Not that it really matters. He'll be dead in a few minutes.

Joker's tracking him as he steps closer, hands help up in surrender. "You know, I'm surprised Jason." Joker steps away from Tim's motionless form. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"If I do this, you have to promise to let Nightwing and Red Robin go." Jason takes another cautious step toward the Clown Prince of Gotham. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest and he tries to mentally will it to slow down.

"Of course, I'm a man of my word," Joker drawls out lazily. "Butch! Chuck! Let Nightwing take Red Robin and ensure they make it out the door. Jason and I want to have the room for ourselves. _I want him to remember every moment of it without distractions._ "

The instant the guards release Dick's arms the vigilante swings out a leg and and connects it with the short ones chin. He quickly goes down, but before Dick can turn to intercept the second the man has already snagged the rope around Dick's neck and begun to successfully choke him with it. Nightwing twists haphazardly, wheezing loudly as he tries to get oxygen to his lungs.

"Stop!" Jason's arms are shaking as he points at the guard strangling his older brother. "This isn't part of the deal. Joker doesn't get me unless Nightwing and Red Robin leave safely."

The guard looks at Joker who shrugs in response. The rope around Nightwing's neck is let go and the color starts to return to his face. "Hood..." Dick heaves a large breath of air. "I'm not leaving you here with him."

Jason tries keep his face schooled to a neutral expression, especially as Joker makes his way over to him so that they're standing next to one another. "You don't have a choice. At least..." He chances a quick glance at the Joker, who has begun to tap his foot rather impatiently. "At least for me this time it's my choice."

Dick's expression is caught somewhere between horror and admiration, but he doesn't say anything else. The guard roughly pushes his older brother over to Red Robin then violently slices the rope from his neck. Jason tries not to visibly react to the trickle of blood he sees trickle from Dicks throat.

Joker watches them with an intense focus. "I would get going if I were you. Wouldn't want to take advantage of my generosity, now would you?"

Dick looks back at Jason one last time, before bending down to pick up Tim's limp body. 

Once his brothers are safely from the warehouse, the true meaning of what Jason's done comes barreling down on him. He tries to push down the feeling of growing anxiety inside of him but the swarm of butterflies panicking in his stomach aren't seeming to get the message.

Apparently, Jason deduces as Joker finally turns to fully face him, his own kryptonite is kids in danger.

"You know, I really am surprised Jason," The clown comments, a predatory grin lighting up his face as he unsheathes a knife from somewhere in the folds of his jacket. Jason does his hardest not to flinch backward at the sight of the blade. It's not like he's scared of weapons necessarily. But goddamn, the Joker could make a kitten look lethal if he held it menacingly enough. "I'd say you really have grown since the first time I killed you. If I didn't hate you so much bird boy, I'd be impressed."

Jason's mouth suddenly tastes bitter and he's tempted to spit at the Joker. It's not like it could make things much worse. But he's got to stall for time. It isn't like he thinks anyone is going to rescue him. But that doesn't mean he wants to die soon either. "Joker, I'm here alright? Just kill me and skip the pillow talk." His usually stoic voice sounds a bit too tight and higher pitched than he'd care to admit.

Joker rolls his eyes and tosses the knife over his shoulder carelessly. "If your so desperate to be dead again, who am I to keep you waiting?"

He produces a pair of handcuffs and nods to at his captive to extend his wrists. Jason does and winces as the cold bite of the metal digs into his tender skin. The click of the handcuffs has barely registered before a well placed strike to Jason's temple sends him sprawling to the ground. More out of surprise than hurt, Jason lets out a grunt as his right shoulder slams into unforgiving cement followed quickly by the rest of his torso.

"That's it, that's it." Joker's eyes are lit up with delight as he all but dances merry circles around his new plaything. He aims a kick to Jason's back, causing the latter to collapse forward onto his stomach. Another quick hit to his head has the former Robin seeing a whirlwind of stars. So many, that he doesn't notice the crowbar entering the scene until it's already crashed into his left foot. He can't help it then- though he'd promised himself he'd go silently this time- the scream still manages to rip itself loose from his lungs.

The first time this happened all Jason could think about was Batman. How he wanted Bruce to save him. 

Jason feels like he should be angry. Killed twice the same way? He should be pissed. But really, all he wants...and it pains him to even think about it...he wants his family. It's pretty fucking ironic that this little moral lesson is coming to him just as he's about to die. He won't get to tell them that he's sorry. He should have tried harder. All Dick really wanted to do was help him and what did he do for his brother in return? 

Hell, even Replacement and Demon Brat he'd attempt to make amends with if he ever got out of here. Maybe they deserved a chance.

The pain's all over the place now, steaming poison and fire lighting up his veins in pure agony. Joker's still cackling. He knows that he's won.

No.

Jason clenches his fists in the cuffs. _He will not be taken again_. He gathers up his strength then turns his head toward his tormentor. "STOP."

It's not much, but it shocks the Joker into pausing. "What?"

Jason clears his throat and shifts himself into an almost sitting position. "I said STOP."

Joker merely grins wider. "Cute, little birdy. I always liked it more when you fought back." He swings down another blow. Only this time Jason has anticipated it. He catches the weapon between his handcuffs, spreading his wrists as far as possible apart to get it to smash the small chain.

It hurts like hell but to his satisfaction his hands come apart from each other with a loud crack.

He's standing, hands free now, legs swaying unsteadily and weaponless before the greatest criminal Gotham has ever seen. And yet, Jason tilts his head back and laughs. No words are spoken- it's relief. Finally,  _finally_ , he knows that he's done something right.

"You're going to regret that," Joker's formerly gleeful demeanor has vanished and all that remains is cold steely looking eyes baring down upon Jason. 

Suddenly, Jason's never felt more vulnerable in his life.

Joker lunges forward and aims a fast strike toward Jason's jaw- and Jason petrified with fear- is too slow to dodge. He tumbles backwards and lands solidly on his ass. A jolt of pain flares through his spine but he's busy concentrating on the vicious clown in front of him to do anything else.

"You played at being a hero once," Joker spits at him. "You were a vigilante. But under that cape? You were just a scared little boy. Has anything really changed since the first time I killed you? What's under that hood, hmm?"

Jason backs up with his arms as quickly as he can, scrambling to get away from his tormentor. The pain is everywhere and it makes it hard to think.

 _You've dealt with pain before. You came from Crime Alley. You were trained by the Bat._  Jason reminds himself. His strength surges back, if only a little. His right hand scrabbles desperately on the ground until it latches onto a splintered plank of wood. He doesn't think. His feet are under him in a second and the wood is dissapearing from his hand in the next. No- not dissapearing. It launches itself from his grip with deadly accuracy.

Thud. The Joker falls slowly to the ground a few feet away, blood already beginning to pool around the piece of wood lodged in his lower left midsection. The crowbar clunks to the floor in his now limp grasp.

Jason stares at the barely breathing body then back to the Joker's minions.

"OH MY GOD," Harley shrieks from where she's been standing. She races down from the boxes she was standing on and collapses next to the Joker's side. "Pudding? Pudding? Wake up!"

The rest of Joker's crew take a moment to react, all still trying to process what they just saw. 

Jason watches numbly as rage settles over their faces and one of them bellows "get him!' and then a hoard of them come thundering toward straight for him.

He's too tired to do it anymore. He sways again, feeling a bit dizzy and sick. He wants to vomit. His legs collapse underneath him- someone catches him before he's able to hit the ground.

"Shit," Someone says in his ear. The last things Jason registers are voices screaming and explosions before his eyes slide blissfully shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the next chapter is going to be the last. It'll probably come soon too cos I am so ready to write it!


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the healing begins. This is where the healing starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word. This came out way later than I wanted. I wrote it and had it ready to post and then we went on a trip to Europe for a few weeks and I never got around to it. I'm sorry dudes.

"You're suffocating me, Todd," Damian mutters bitterly from where he stands half hunched over from the weight of Jason leaning so heavily on him.

Jason shifts gingerly on his left leg and with some difficulty cranes his neck to peer down at his youngest brother. "Sorry D," he replies a little breathily. "Do you want to take a break?"

Damian's eyes soften a little when he notices that Jason's begun to pant a little from the exertion. "Yes, perhaps we should sit down. We can attempt again later."

Slowly, the two pick their way back over to the large bed in the center of the room. Jason bites back a groan as he melts back into the too soft sheets and lets his head hit the pillows.

"Is your foot feeling any better?" Damian settles himself at the foot of the bed and leans down to inspect Jason's left leg.

Jason lets his eyes slide shut but he manages to give an audible "mmm" in response.

"You've barely been up half an hour Todd. I would advise against sleeping all the time unless you want to get fat from all this laying around you're doing." The youngest Robins words hold no venom and hypocritically he flops down onto the sheets next to his brother.

Jason cracks an eye open to look at the ten year old. "Not to use your own words against you Little D but I remember earlier you said that you had more important things to do than hanging around with me."

Damian flushes a bit and he appears to be trying to come up with a logical sounding answer. "I could be training right now yes, but I'm helping you. I know Grayson would want me to."

Jason nods understandingly. "Of course. All for Dick. No other reason."

Damian rolls his eyes and turns over onto his side. "Shut up, Todd."

The two lay in silence for a few minutes until Damian turns back over. "After your healthy again I feel it would be in both of our best interests if you stuck around. While we've had our differences in the past...I am able to identify people with good intentions despite their flaws. You saved both Drake and Grayson at risk of your own life and for that I believe you've earned the right to stay."

There's another pause. "So, I should stay here at the manor?" Jason asks, slightly confused.

Damian nods earnestly, his face for once reflecting the emotions a ten year old should have.

"I...I don't know about that Damian," Jason admits. "I'm only here because I can't leave. It has been nice having everyone around and us all getting along but that's just not reality. It won't last forever."

Damian pushes himself up onto his elbows. "Yes it can. You don't have to go back- you could stay here with Alfred and Bruce." He doesn't say 'with me' but Jason gets it.

"My ideals are different than Bruce's. I can't compromise on that."

"I understand that." Damian lays back down. "I'm not sure what I expected you to respond. 'Of course I'll stay, Damian. Anything for you' would be a stretch."

Jason chuckles lightly and reaches over to scratch the younger boy on the head. "Don't worry. I'll still come around if Bruce and the others will have me."

"Titus would gladly welcome you," Damian replies evenly. "And I'm sure Bruce wants you here at home."

Home.

The word strikes a chord and Jason feels warmer inside upon hearing it. "Sorry, kid. That's where you're wrong."

There's a knock at the door and Alfred appears with a tray of food and various medicines on a tray. "Master Jason, I believe it's time for your medication. Before you do that though we must get some food in you."

Jason grins and props himself up into a sitting position on the pillows. "Thanks, Alfred. If there's one thing I'm going to miss for sure it's gotta be your cooking."

Alfred's smile drops into a concerned frown. "You're not planning on leaving are you?"

Jason accepts the extended tray and slowly starts to chew a half of the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Afraid so," He says around a mouthful of cheese and crust. "Once I'm able to walk on my own I'd better get back to my job. The streets don't run themselves, you know?"

Damian mutters something in audible from his left but Jason ignores him.

"That's a pity," Alfred looks genuinely saddened. "I'd quite gotten used to having your presence here."

"It's been nice," Jason wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "But I've probably overstayed my welcome."

"And why would you think that?" Bruce says from the doorway.

Jason twitches at the sudden intrusion- how long had he been there?- but moves his hand to his neck to play it off. "You and me Bruce? We've never truly gotten along. There's always been one thing or another. I can't come back and just play by your rules. We'll always be at odds."

Bruce moves further into the room, footsteps light. He's holding something in his hand but it's hard to tell what it is. "You and I have an interesting history, that's true. But you're still my son. There's nothing I wouldn't do to get you to come home."

Damian shifts on the bed to give Jason a gloating "I was right" look at his older brother.

"Bruce...I'm not one of you. I can't be a Bat and live under your conditions. After all I've done...God. You know why I came back to Gotham in the first place? I came back to kill Joker. I planned to rip your world apart and lead you down a path so destructive that you'd never be the same again." Jason lets the sandwich in his hand fall back onto the platter as his voice breaks. "Don't you get it? I don't belong here. I'm always going to be the bad guy. I'm the villain in this story. Just because I saved your other two Robins doesn't mean you should welcome me back in after all I've done and planned."

Bruce comes over to the bed and gently sits down next to him. "Jason, I can't say that we're always going to agree on things. What I do know is it's torn me apart that I wasn't able to save you. You've been alone for so long. I don't want you to be alone ever again. You should know that you have a family to come back to. In the end..." Here he takes a breath. "In the end family is more important. It doesn't matter what you've done or who you are. You're my son." And then without warning, Bruce is leaning over to wrap him in his arms.

Jason hesitates for a moment then tentatively raises his arms to hug his father back. "Bruce...I can't stay. I'm sorry."

There's a silence that fills the room, but it's not uncomfortable. "Are you sure, Jason?" Finally comes the reply.

"I'm certain. But I'll drop in on holidays and...you can call me. Just if you need intel or something." 

Bruce quirks a small smile at that. "Of course. We'll be informatives." He opens his hand and sets a piece of paper on Jason's lap. "It's got the code for the cave. Don't lose it."

* * *

Jason stands in the drive way of Wayne Manor, helmet in hand and bike to his left. He glances over at his family gathered on the lawn to see him leave.

"Be sure to come back for Christmas," Dick wipes at his face rather aggressively. His eyes are red and puffy. 

"I want a real sword for Christmas," Damian adds. He's been reminding Jason of that for the past week now.

"I'll send you that data for the Johnson case," Tim puts in glancing up from his laptop. "A fresh pair of eyes is probably all I need."

Jason smiles warmly at the younger Robin. "I'll look it over sometime tonight and see what you've missed. You can't always run off caffeine and no sleep and expect to solve mysteries, Tim." 

"Conner tells me that all the time," Tim shrugs. "As far as I'm concerned crime doesn't stop while I'm sleeping."

Jason rolls his eyes.

Alfred also wipes at his eyes. "Goodbye Master Jason. Please do write or visit before Christmas. That's quite a long time from now."

"Will do, Alfie. Promise to make me lots of cookies if I come by?"

"As many as you like."

Jason nods then lets his gaze travel to Bruce who's stayed quiet the entire time. He receives a firm nod from his father and a faint grin.

And then Jason's clambering onto his bike. His hood is slipped over his head and the computer on the inside starts up. The engine is revved. He looks back at his family one last time before he's off. He dissapears from sight, over the hill and back into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have an epilogue written. Even though this is sort of an epilogue. 
> 
> Wow. What a ride this has been. I feel like I hyped everything up too much to give it this way too happy ending but I can't help it. I just want everyone to be happy. If people want, I can write an unhappy ending and post that as an alternative. Then people can choose which one they'd rather read. But here's this for now.


	12. Red Hood and the Outlaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he won't be the same ever again. But maybe that's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really a chapter. It's more of an epilogue. You don't need to read this to get closure.

Jason glances over his shoulder back at Roy who's still strapping his bow to his back. "Could you be any slower, dude? I'm in a rush and still need to go over the plan one more time."

"Hell no," Roy retorts with an easy grin on his face. "You don't get to lecture me on punctuality."

"You two, sometimes I swear to the gods," Kori laughs and floats up a few feet off the ground to scan the horizon. "You'd best be going, Jason. It's getting late." 

Jason rolls his eyes. "I'll see the both of you in exactly two weeks. You know where. Stay low until I get back, alright? Don't go getting in trouble, or looking for trouble," Jason squints at the archer who's getting a mischievous look across his face. " _I mean it_ , Roy. Just try to enjoy yourselves. Don't do anything crazy."

"Aye aye, captain." Roy smirks and respectfully salutes with just his middle finger.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Oh, and give me the sword, Roy."

"What, the one from the alien ship?" Roy sputters incredulously as he takes a step backward.

"Yes," Jason holds out a hand. "I told you it's for Damian."

"Fuck. Why does he need it?" Roy asks bitterly as he pulls it out from his pile of things and hands it over.

"I promised him, sorry, dude." Jason shrugs sympathetically. "We'll find you something cooler."

"I can't believe you're going back to them and leaving your best pals alone." Roy goes over to the edge of the roof and sits down hard.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," Kori gives the archer a pointed glare then nods at Jason. "Now, go."

Jason smirks at the two then turns to fling himself from the building they're standing on. He lets himself fall for half a second longer than necessary (mostly just to make Roy shit himself) before shooting out a line to the next building. He can still hear the archer cursing his name as he soars away.

As he's swinging through the streets the comm in his ear buzzes to life. Unintelligible arguing can be heard on the other line before the distinct sound of a slap and then Damian's voice is suddenly blasting through his eardrum. Jason's hand nearly slips off his line.

"Todd, I thought father told you to be early for Christmas dinner."

Jason spares his brother the time to push the button on the comm-link in his ear so he can speak to the youngest Wayne. "Yes, I know. I heard what Bruce said, Damian. It's not like I'm purposely trying to be late."

There's more shuffling on the other end of the line before Red Robin is saying, "Cut it out you brat!" More squabbling and then finally Tim manages get control of the comms. "Jason, would it be horrible if I asked you to stop and get a turkey? Dick forgot to get one even though he promised he would."

Jason sighs loudly but shoots another line in the general direction of the nearest grocery store. "Why would we even eat a turkey on Christmas? It's not Thanksgiving or anything."

The sound of Tim's appalled sputtering on the other end fills his heart with joy. 

"Hey! Is that Jason you're talking to? Great! Can you ask him to get something for dessert? I may or may not have tried to help Alfred earlier with the cake... Either way it's a goner." Dick's voice comes floating to Jason as the second eldest of the boys drops neatly down in front of the supermarket. He doesn't have anywhere to put his helmet so he keeps it on and strolls into the store. There's hardly anyone there- which isn't surprising since it is Christmas day. In fact, Jason can probably count all the employees that he passes on one hand.

"Can you get alcohol?" Dick asks.

"No." Jason replies steadily. "You don't need anymore of that."

Once he's grabbed a small shriveled turkey (that's what you get when you wait till the last second), a few bottles of beer (as much as he hates to indulge Dick he wants to indulge himself too) and a crusty looking container of cheesecake he tucks them into his backpack, secures that firmly to his person and takes off once again.

He's notices that the warehouse that Joker nearly killed him again is coming up. A tight knot forms in his stomach. He momentarily feels anger at himself for that.

Jason let's his gaze track it as it slowly approaches in the distance but he doesn't really feel what he'd expect when looking at a traumatizing place. It's a confusing blur of emotions that connects themselves to that night, and everything that happened after. Joker going back to Arkham after extensive surgery. Harley Quinn escaping the scene. Bruce and the rest of his family caring for him over the next few weeks. Starting over with everyone. Forming the Outlaws.

Bruce promised that as soon as Jason was ready, they'd find Harley. They'd find out what Joker was planning to do. The lead they have is small and might not even amount to anything. They may have waited too long to follow it but that's okay.

Old Jason wouldn't have been so patient. He's changed now. Maybe Jason won't be the same ever again. But maybe that's okay. Maybe it's for the better.

He's not like the rest of the Bats. He's the exception in the family. He may not be as smart as Bruce, talented as Dick, kind as Alfred, calculated as Tim or determined as Damian but it doesn't matter. He came from the street. He was the one who stole the tires off the Batmobile. No one else. He's the one who came back to life. He's the exception. The glaring exception.

He has a family and good friends now. Nothing else really matters.

The first few flakes of snow begin to float gently toward the ground- looks like he won his bet with Dick over whether or not it was going to be a white Christmas. The night is peacefully silent and cool and the stars have come out to pave the way to the manor with milky light.

Jason drops onto the roof of the warehouse and goes to kneel at the edge. He removes his helmet easily, closes his eyes, breathes in deeply then looks down at Gotham's lights below him. For the first time in a long time Jason feels like he's really come home.

A smile tugs at his lips as he watches the children of Gotham burst from their homes to dance in the freshly falling snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for happy endings. This wasn't even necessary but I don't care. I felt like writing this. It makes me happy.


End file.
